


Suffer the Children

by natneill99



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Foster Care, Gen, Group Homes, Hurt Peter Parker, Irondad, Not Canon Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Pre-Spider Bite Peter Parker, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Sexual Abuse, Tony Stark Acting as Harley Keener's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 56,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22822357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natneill99/pseuds/natneill99
Summary: “What happens now?” Peter found himself asking. He wasn’t sure if he was asking Michelle, himself, or the world. It didn’t matter, though. No one had an answer.Michelle didn’t say anything. Instead, she opened up her notebook and stared at a blank page.Or,When Thanos destroyed half of all life, over 7,500,000 children in the US alone suddenly found themselves without a family to go home to. Fourteen-year-old Peter Parker was one of them.
Relationships: Harley Keener & Peter Parker, Harley Keener & Tony Stark, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 162
Kudos: 690





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags before you read!

Peter hated math.

It wasn’t that he was bad at math (in fact, he was quite good at it), but it was so boring. He would sit at his desk and listen to Mr. Anderson drone on and on and on about some math formula in that monotone voice of his, then assign them a dozen problems to complete with no real _meaning_. In science, math had a visible effect. In math, it was just numbers.

Besides, it was just algebra. Peter could do it in his sleep.

He tapped his pencil against his paper lightly, eyes flicking around the room. He wasn’t the only one not paying attention. Next to him, Ned was staring blankly at the wall. Down the row, Michelle was doodling in her notebook. Flash was flicking a rubber band at the girl in front of him. Even Betty Brant, who was facing forward with one hand holding her chin up, was asleep.

“So, once we’re here, we just solve for x.”

They had all already learned this in eighth grade. They had to, otherwise getting into Midtown School of Science and Technology would have been impossible. Peter was not the only student who could do this in their sleep. He hadn’t expected, when he came to Midtown, that they would spend the first two months of class basically reviewing things.

“So now we just subtract five… from both sides, remember? And then we-“

“Mr. Anderson!”

The panicked shout drew Peter’s attention over to Jeremy Oswald at the back of the room. The boy, normally quiet and withdrawn, was staring at his hands with a terrified expression on his face. Only, where hands should have been, there was only air. As Peter stared, eyes wide in stunned silence, the rest of his body seemed to… turn to ashes.

“Jeremy!” yelped the girl beside him, but then she, too, was disappearing in front of Peter’s eyes.

He leaped to his feet and spun around. In the front row, Clara Rodriguez started to scream, but was cut off as she disappeared. Other seats were suddenly empty, the occupants gone before Peter even saw them. Mr. Anderson stepped forward, eyes wide and frightened and showing more emotion than Peter had ever seen him project, but his legs disappeared, and he was gone before the rest of his body hit the ground.

“Peter!” Ned’s voice entered his ear through the rest of the screaming.

He turned his head sharply, eyes wide, sure that he was about to see his best friend flaking away, but he wasn’t. He was solid and staring at the scene with shaking hands.

“What’s going on?” Ned asked, voice shaking.

Peter climbed over his desk, practically barreling into his friend. He clutched the boy’s arm and stared at the scene around, feeling his heart pound against his chest. Other students were disappearing, but others weren’t.

“What the crap? What the crap?” Flash was repeating over and over again, voice slowly getting louder and more panicked as he stared at the empty desk in front of him.

Betty Brant was screaming, hands clutching her hair and eyes closed as if she could make the scene go away, as if it was all a bad nightmare.

Even Michelle looked scared. Her hands tightened around her notebook until her knuckles were white, and she was staring at the scene with wide eyes, mouth open in shock.

What they would later call the Dusting lasted less than a minute, but it was the scariest minute of Peter’s entire life. He clutched onto Ned, needing to make sure his friend wasn’t about to disappear like those around him. He listened, trembling, to the screams around him, to the ones that were cut off, and felt like at any moment, he would disappear, too.

He didn’t.

Those who disappeared had disappeared by the time a minute passed, but five minutes after that passed before anyone moved. The screaming stopped, replaced with shuddering sobs, mumbling confusions, and panting breaths. Peter and Ned practically collapsed onto the ground, still clutching each other and shaking.

There had been thirty students in their class, as well as their teacher. By the time it was over, only fourteen remained. Fourteen children, shaking and crying, filled with confusion, shock, and fear.

“What just happened?” Ned whispered out loud. His voice carried above the cries, but no one had an answer for him.

The door suddenly flew open, causing all of them to jump. Amber Hodson, who was sitting on the floor near the door with her knees to her chest, yelped.

“Mrs. Walker!” Peter pushed himself to his feet at the sight of his English teacher, “Mrs. Walker, what’s going on?”

The woman, normally composed and strict, was a mess. She was pale, and her eyes were red from crying. Her hands shook as her eyes flickered around the room, as if taking inventory. She ignored his question.

“Is your teacher gone?”

They all nodded silently.

“What happened?” asked a girl that Peter didn’t know the name of. She was leaning against the wall and trembling. 

“I don’t know,” Mrs. Walker croaked out, “Go to the cafeteria. I’m going to try to figure out what’s going on.”

It was a testament to how scared they were that each of them, even Flash, nodded without another word. It was obvious that Mrs. Walker was just in the dark about what happened as they were, and at least the order gave them some kind of knowledge of a plan.

Peter trembled as he picked up his bookbag. He glanced at Ned, making sure his friend was with him, making sure his friend was solid and still there, and began to walk.

The halls were full of students, dazed and confused and crying. Most were silent, though a few were shouting, and others were sobbing so hard that Peter was surprised they were walking. Some weren’t, actually, and were being supported by friends. There wasn’t any laughter or chatter that Peter had grown used to at Midtown. There were only scared children thrown into something no one understood.

They piled into the cafeteria. Peter slid into a seat near the door next to Ned. His legs bounced anxiously, and his eyes flickered around him.

Alarm bells suddenly sounded in his mind. A gasp left his lips as he jerked up.

He didn’t even speak, simply fished in his pocket and yanked his phone out. His hands shook as he immediately called his uncle.

He practically slammed the phone against his ear. Nearby, several people saw what he was doing, and there were cries of alarm as others pulled out their phones and began to call their loved ones.

The phone rang.

And rang.

And rang.

“Hello, you’ve reached Ben Parker’s voicemail. Please leave a message after the beep.”

He hung up and immediately called again.

Beside him, Ned must have gotten hold of his mother, because his entire body sagged in relief. Peter couldn’t even hear what they were saying, though, too focused on getting hold of his uncle.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Hello, you’ve reached-“

Hang up. Call again.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Hello, you’ve-“

He hung up again with a panicked groan. His fingers shook as he changed tactics and called May instead.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Hey! This is May Parker. I’ll call you back when I have a chance.”

* * *

It took three hours for them to get any sort of answer, and that came in the form of Mrs. Walker wheeling in a television to watch the news. In those three hours, Peter was unable to contact his aunt and uncle. He had lost track of how many times he had called them and not received an answer.

The moment the news report popped up on the screen, the hundreds of children all bolted towards it, crowding around it as if the woman on the other end was about to announce which of them was going to become a millionaire. Peter was forced to the back, but everyone was silent in an effort to hear what exactly had happened.

The woman running the report was not the typical, calm news anchor that Peter was used to. Instead, the woman’s hair had been pulled up into a messy bun, and her voice shook as she spoke.

“James Rhodes, also known as War Machine, or the Iron Patriot, has announced that he will be giving a press conference the moment he returns to the States, which is expected to be sometime later today. In the meantime, all he has been able to tell us about what caused millions, if not billions, of people around the world to vanish is that the Avengers were fighting an alien in an attempt to stop this disaster, and they failed.”

Gasps and murmurings grew among the kids, loud enough that Peter missed the next words from the reporter. His head snapped over to Ned, who was staring at the screen with wide eyes.

“They failed?” Peter whispered, feeling dizzy.

That was impossible. The Avengers had been around since he was a child, and they had never failed.

“Everybody, quiet!” Mrs. Walker shouted over them. She was pale and trembling as she stared at the tv, clutching her phone.

The noise level lowered enough for Peter to hear more of the report.

“The President has disappeared, so the Vice President has been sworn in as acting president during this emergency. Former Vice President Marcus Webb has declared a national emergency. Everyone is being asked to stay wherever you are. Do not go on the roads. The vanishings caused thousands of car accidents all throughout the United States, and the roads are not safe. We are going to do our best to clear the roads as quickly as possible but the vanishings have left emergency services severely lacking. The Acting President will also be giving a press conference in the following hour.

“Acting President Webb has also asked that if you can check up on your neighbors without going on the road, please do so, especially if you know they have dependents such as children, elderly, or people with disabilities. If you happen to find one of these dependents alone, please take care of them until emergency services can get to you.”

“911 is to be used for extreme emergencies only at the moment. Emergency services are extremely lacking, as mentioned, so do not call unless absolutely necessary. Because of limited resources, dispatchers are requesting to only call in life or death situations.”

“This is crazy,” Ned whispered beside him. Peter nodded. He felt like he had just stepped into the apocalypse.

The reporter continued. Her voice shook, and Peter was suddenly struck with the knowledge that there were usually two reporters on this channel.

“Most importantly, please stay calm while our government and the Avengers work on reversing whatever has happened.”

The report cut to a middle-aged man standing outside of Stark Tower and reporting on the state of the Avengers. Had this been any other day, he would have hung on to every word as the man relayed which of the Avengers were confirmed to have vanished and who was left to try and reverse it, but he simply couldn’t.

May and Ben still hadn’t answered his call. They were all that he could think of.

* * *

The hours passed slowly. They were kept packed into the cafeteria, with the reporter on the tv rambling on about different things around the world. Planes, suddenly lacking pilots and air traffic controllers, crashed in fiery explosions. Cars, suddenly unmanned, piled up on the streets. Shops, suddenly void of employees, were looted.

After the first half hour or so, most students had wandered away, taken refuge in a spot around the cafeteria, and focused on getting in contact with their loved ones. Some were successful. Others were not. A few succeeded in contacting one, only to learn from that person that another loved one had vanished. Mrs. Walker had spent fifteen minutes comforting a Sophomore who had gotten in contact with her little brother who had been sick at home, only to find out that both of her parents had vanished, and now he was home alone, and she had no way to get to him.

The time they normally would go home came and passed. A few parents or siblings of students who lived nearby came and picked up their children, but most weren’t able to get on the road, still. Some parents showed up, only to find that their child was among the vanished.

One lunch lady who was still around cooked up some steam-cooked hamburgers and handed them out, but very few kids actually ate. Peter definitely didn’t. By the time his burger was in front of him, he had called both May and Ben hundreds of times, never receiving an answer.

Only… the lack of a response was an answer in itself.

They were gone.

If they hadn’t disappeared, they would have answered their phones.

At nine in the evening, when the reporter was still saying not to go out on the roads, Mrs. Walker announced that they were going to have to spend the night.

Which is how Peter found himself sprawled out on the floor of his science classroom, using his bookbag as a pillow. Ned laid next to him, turned on his side to face him. His eyes were red, and he clutched his phone in his hand.

“I’m sure they’ll reverse it,” Peter whispered to his friend, quiet enough that the few other students who had ventured in to sleep didn’t hear, “It… It can’t last forever.”

“I hope so,” Ned mumbled. He rubbed his eyes, “My dad, Peter.”

“I know. I know,” Peter blinked slowly and tried not to think about May and Ben, tried to reason with himself that maybe they just lost their phones or something. Surely, they weren’t like Ned’s dad, who had vanished into thin air in front of his mom.

He swallowed and blinked tears out of his eyes.

“Maybe when we wake up, the Avengers will have reversed it.”

They had to. They were the Avengers. They couldn’t leave billions of people just… gone.

“Yeah,” Ned nodded. He licked his lips and closed his eyes, “Yeah, you’re right.”

He wasn’t right.

* * *

He slept fitfully throughout the night, cold and uncomfortable. By the time Mrs. Walker knocked on the door and told them to get up and go to the cafeteria, he was sure that he had slept a total of three hours.

He grabbed his phone where he had left it charging and quickly pulled up his text messages, but there was no message from his aunt and uncle.

“My mom says she is going to get me today,” Ned said from where he was sitting on the floor, reading the text he had received, “They cleared the road enough for her to get through.”

“Good, that’s good,” Peter said, but his stomach twisted.

Who was going to come for him?

He pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his bag.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” he muttered to Ned, before quickly fleeing the room.

The tears were rolling down his cheeks before he even got to the bathroom. He stumbled in, past the Senior walking out, and practically collapsed at the sink, holding himself up.

The Avengers were going to reverse it. They _had_ to. There was no other option. Right?

He didn’t know what had happened to his aunt and uncle, but the fact that neither had called or answered his calls wasn’t good. He couldn’t admit it, though, and his mind came up with desperate excuses for why they hadn’t contacted him.

His hands shook. He gripped the sink in front of him and took deep breaths, trying to calm down.

The universe couldn’t take them away from him. Not May. Not Ben. They were all he had.

He couldn’t lose his parents again.

* * *

The lunch lady handed out honey buns and cereal for breakfast. Most students ate their food in silence, occasionally glancing up at the tv that was still playing the news. A few, however, had formed a group near the back of the cafeteria and were invested in a card game. They were getting rather heated over it, and Peter had a feeling that it was being used as a distraction.

Peter was tempted to join them, but he couldn’t find the energy to do so.

“Is Derek Carlyle here?”

Peter glanced back at Mrs. Walker, who had just entered the cafeteria. Her eyes were scanning the group of students, looking for someone to stand up and follow her, to go to whoever had shown up to pick him up.

No one stood up.

“He disappeared,” one of the Juniors said in a small voice.

Mrs. Walker looked like she tasted something sour, but she nodded stiffly and walked away to alert whoever was there to the state of the boy.

The cafeteria fell into grim silence. Peter took a bite of his honeybun, but it tasted stale.

“Do you think they’re dead?” Ned’s voice was quiet and vulnerable.

“I don’t know,” he whispered back. He felt nauseous. 

He pushed his food to the side, suddenly not hungry anymore. He didn’t want to think about them being dead. That would mean half his class, including his teacher, were dead. That would mean hundreds of students at his school were dead.

He didn’t even want to think about May and Ben. They could still be around. They could show up at any minute and pick him up.

“The press conference!” someone shouted. Peter’s head snapped up at the sudden noise, and suddenly everyone was racing towards the tv, which had changed from the news channel to a stage, where the Avengers were walking up to the microphone.

Only…

“Is that Captain America?” Ned whispered to Peter. They stayed in their seats, not about to brave the crowd forming around the television, but they could still see it, “He’s a war criminal!”

“That’s Black Widow, too,” Peter responded, eyebrows furrowing at the screen, “And Thor and Hulk haven’t been seen in ages!”

War Machine was on the stage, as expected, but the four people who flanked him were definitely not who Peter had assumed to see.

The five heroes looked grim, to say the least. Peter found himself transfixed with their dirty suits, the mud-and-blood-covered clothes making it obvious that they had not had time to even change from their battle. Their eyes were red-rimmed, and their stances were defeated. They looked tired. They looked dead.

“Yesterday, the Avengers, along with the Wakandan army, were engaged in a battle on Wakandan soil,” War Machine began. Peter had heard the man speak before, and the confidence that the man typically held seemed to be lacking, “An alien by the name of Thanos was searching for six powerful stones, and he sent his army to Earth to find one of them. We were trying to protect it. We failed.”

Murmurs grew among the students, but they didn’t last long as others quickly shushed them.

“Thanos and his army were the most powerful beings we have ever fought,” War Machine continued gravely, “We promise you that we gave everything in our power to prevent this from happening, but when Thanos arrived on Earth, he already had five of the six stones, and it made him the most powerful being in the universe. We couldn’t stop him from getting the last stone, and when he did, all he had to do was snap his fingers, and half the population ceased to exist.”

“Amber Hodson!” the name came over the speaker this time, making everyone jump, but a mousy teenager with a relieved expression was suddenly bolting out of the room.

“This did not happen just on Earth,” War Machine said, and Peter forced his attention back to the man, even as his mind kept wandering to the loud speaker, hoping beyond anything that it would say his name next, “Thanos wiped out half of all life all across the Universe.”

The loud speaker came on again. Peter looked up hopefully, but the name that came across it was “Isaac Bisset.”

“We are not here to give you false hope. We do not know if this can be reversed, but we promise you that we will do everything in our power to fix it.”

A round of gasps and horrified cries drowned out his next words. Peter could hear his heart pounding in his chest. What did that mean? They might not be able to reverse this?

“Elizabeth Allan-Toomes.”

Peter’s head snapped up at the name, just barely able to be heard from the clamor of voice.

Liz. He hadn’t seen Liz. Not since the Academic Decathlon meeting the other day, and especially not when everyone was crowded in the cafeteria. He hadn’t even thought of her, too worried about May and Ben… but if she wasn’t there, and they were calling for her.

He felt sick.

His eyes shot to the door, waiting to see if maybe he had just missed her, if she would walk out the door and go home with her family, safe… but she didn’t.

Liz was gone.

The rumble of voices died down enough for him to catch what War Machine was saying.

“There were a few heroes off world trying to protect another stone, and while we know they failed, we are unsure of what happened to them. Iron Man and Doctor Strange, as well as several other aliens who call themselves ‘Guardians of the Galaxy’ are Missing in Action.”

His voice trembled at the mention of Iron Man, and if Peter wasn’t so terrified with the notion that his aunt and uncle still weren’t here, and Liz was gone, he would have been horrified at the notion that his childhood hero was probably dead.

“Ned Leeds.”

He glanced at his friend, seeing the relieved express flood over it. Ned grabbed his bag and stood up, but he placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“Come with me. Maybe my mom has heard from your aunt or uncle.”

Peter nodded sharply at that. He gathered up his bags, took one look back at the tv, and followed Ned to the principal’s office.

* * *

She hadn’t.

“I’m so sorry, Peter,” his mom said as she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tight, “I haven’t heard anything. I’m sure they’re just holed up somewhere. May is probably busy at the hospital. There were a lot of car accidents yesterday.”

He swallowed thickly at her words and nodded. He could see in her face that she didn’t quite believe it, but he held onto it. Maybe that was what happened. Maybe she was just busy.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a man standing outside and shouting at Mrs. Walker. There were tears streaming down his cheeks, and he was pointing frantically at the door. Peter knew what he was saying. He wanted to go in. He wanted to look for his child himself.

Peter had never seen Liz’s dad, but he had a feeling that was who this was.

“Text me if they come,” Ned said, gesturing to his phone, “And… and if they don’t. Let me know.”

“I will,” Peter promised.

* * *

They didn’t come.

The day passed painfully slow, and the number of parents and other family members showing up dwindled throughout until, by six, anyone who had someone coming for them had already gone home. Peter wasn’t the only one left at the school, though. Over three hundred students dispersed themselves around the school with no one to come pick them up.

Peter didn’t eat the dinner that the lunch lady, who Peter was beginning to wonder if she had any family, brought. Instead, he wandered back to the empty science classroom and curled up in the corner. His eyes burned as he leaned against the wall and clutched his bag to his chest like a lifeline.

They were gone. He knew it. If they hadn’t arrived or even contacted him by now, over twenty-four hours since the disappearances, he knew they were gone. He was alone.

The door opened. Peter glanced up, brushing a tear off of his cheek.

Michelle Jones walked in. She paused when she saw him, obviously thinking the room was empty. Her eyes were red, and her hair was a mess. He wondered, briefly, if she had been able to contact anyone either.

He had never spoken to Michelle before. She was quiet and kept to herself. Right then, though, as they stared at each other, Peter knew that they were in the same boat.

Neither of them said anything to each other, but Michelle walked in and sat on the floor beside him, silent. She pulled out her notebook, the same one that Peter had seen her drawing in ever since the first day at school.

“What happens now?” Peter found himself asking. He wasn’t sure if he was asking Michelle, himself, or the world. It didn’t matter, though. No one had an answer.

Michelle didn’t say anything. Instead, she opened up her notebook and stared at a blank page.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things move forward slowly, and Peter and Michelle find themselves leaning on each other throughout.

Peter hardly remembered the next few days. They were long and uneventful, mostly filled with Peter and Michelle hanging out in the science classroom in silence. Michelle had tossed a book at him shortly after she had arrived in the room, but the words blended together on the page, and he couldn’t make sense of any of it, so he settled for staring blankly at the wall and willing his phone to ring.

Three times a day, the students left at the school ventured into the cafeteria to eat. Throughout the day, they raided the showers in the locker rooms. The rest of the time, most students wandered the school aimlessly or, like Peter and Michelle, claimed a classroom and shut themselves out from the rest.

The conversation between the two was sparse, but her silent presence was comforting. 

The TV in the cafeteria played the news twenty-four hours a day, but Peter found himself avoiding that area as much as possible. The influx of students who stayed in there to watch it, all upset and angry at the world, was overwhelming. He had already heard of a few fights occurring there, which had to be broken up by the very few teachers who still stuck around.

His old phone wasn’t much use in finding out the news either. It didn’t connect to the internet well, always losing signal every other minute. He tried, on the second day, to find more information about what was going on, but he hadn’t been able to.

This was why on the fourth day, instead of going to breakfast, Peter went to the computer lab.

There were a few other students littered about. Some were playing games on the computers, others were watching movies or YouTube videos. There were others, though, who seemed to have the same idea.

He sat at the nearest open computer and immediately signed in.

It wasn’t hard to find articles of what was being dubbed “The Snap.” It was the only thing being covered on all the news sources. His eyes scanned through the titles of the numerous articles, trying to find one that would give him the information he wanted.

“Government Officials Vanish All Over the World, Leaving the World in Chaos.”

“Crime Skyrockets Following the Snap.”

“Death Toll for Accidents Related to the Snap Estimated to be in the Millions.”

Peter swallowed hard as his eyes skimmed over the articles. The world really was in chaos. He kind of felt lucky that he was at Midtown, where the most chaotic thing had been the fights that had broken out in the cafeteria. He hadn’t even seen it.

He sighed when he got to the fourth page on google and still didn’t find what he was looking for.

He went up to the search bar, took in a shuddering breath, and typed out “The Snap kids.”

The article that popped up on the first page instantly drew his eye.

“The Snap Orphans: What Will Happen to Them?”

Perfect. That was exactly what he was looking for.

_“After the events of the Snap left half the world’s population cut in half, an alarming revelation has recently reached the public eye. Millions of children all around the United States have been orphaned by the tragedy. Most of the school-aged children are still stuck at their schools, while the younger ones have been dropped off at daycares by neighbors._

_“As the days have passed and the Avengers have still not reversed the situation, however, a concerning question has begun to rise: How will we care for these children?_

_“With the government swarmed with so many other things, it seems like it will be easy for these children to fall through the cracks, but luckily, some people have begun to step up.”_

_“Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries, has begun work to help in the relocation and care of these children. She is currently in the works of setting up shelters for the Snap Orphans all across the United States, which she says the children will begin to go to within the next few days. These shelters will house the children until foster homes can be found.”_

_“Anyone with the ability to is also being asked to consider becoming a temporary foster parent. With half our foster parents gone and many times the amount of kids in need of homes, anyone who can is being asked to chip in.”_

Peter stopped reading. He frowned at the article, though he had been expecting something similar when he had searched for this. Just from looking at how many students were still at Midtown, he knew that the problem that he was in was affecting a lot of kids. It had been four days since The Snap, and they couldn’t stay at the school forever.

Part of him wanted to, at least until the Snap was reversed.

He turned his attention to that thought. It had been four days. Surely the Avengers were getting close to fixing this, right?

He dove into that topic, trying to find an article that would say what the Avengers were doing to stop this, but he came up short. A few articles were speculating, but there was nothing certain. It seemed that since the press conference, none of the Avengers had come forward.

He was knee deep into articles when he suddenly felt a tap on his shoulders.

He jumped and spun around.

“Hey, loser. I was wondering where you’d run off to,” Michelle said, frowning at him. She squinted at the articles over his shoulder, “Doing some research?”

Peter blinked at her, surprised. That was more than she had ever spoken to him, and he couldn’t find it in him to be offended at the use of the word ‘loser.’ There wasn’t any heat behind it, and it felt more like a term of endearment than anything else.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he said, feeling his cheeks flush as if he had been caught doing something wrong, “Just… just trying to see if they’re close to reversing this.”

“Are they?”

There was doubt in her voice, bitter and sour. Her eyes narrowed at the article, and she pulled up a chair next to him.

“No clue,” he answered honestly, shrugging, “The Avengers are apparently being pretty quiet about what they’re doing… but they’re the Avengers. I’m sure they’re almost there.”

Michelle didn’t look so convinced, but she didn’t voice her doubts.

“Does it say anything about when we’re getting out of here?”

“Not exactly. I found an article that says they’re going to be moving all the ‘snap orphans’ to shelters in the next few days, but that’s all I can find.”

“Do you think they’ll at least let us go back to our homes and pack a bag?” she asked.

Peter pondered that for a moment. He glanced down at himself, at the clothes he had been wearing for the past four days, and grimaced. The daily showers in the boy’s locker room were nice, but everyone’s clothes were getting gross.

“I hope so.”

* * *

It was later that same day that brought some much-needed changes.

Peter and Michelle were returning from the computer lab when two young boys, no older than eight, came barreling down the halls and nearly knocked them over. Peter had known, distantly, that a few kids had been brought to stay with their older siblings, so that wasn’t what caught his eye. What caught his eye were the sleeping bags the two were carrying.

Eloise Putnam rounded the corner, chasing her brothers. She was carrying a sleeping bag as well.

She beamed at the sight of them, and Peter was thrown off guard.

“Look!” she waved her blue sleeping bag over her head, “Look what we got!”

“Where did you get those?” Peter asked, eyes gluing to the object, eyebrows furrowed.

“The cafeteria,” Eloise chirped, “Stark Industries sent them over. Go grab yourselves some!”

It was just a sleeping bag, such a simple thing, but the idea that Peter could be able to actually sleep on something other than the cold tile floor was too good to pass up. He glanced at Michelle, and he could tell that she was thinking the same thing he was. She didn’t even say anything before bolting down the hall.

Peter followed.

He could hear the rumble of students the closer he got to the cafeteria. People were laughing and talking, a far cry from what he had grown used to over the last few days.

Michelle was ahead of him, and she pushed open the door. His mouth fell open at the sight in front of him.

Most of the students left at the school had joined in the cafeteria, and there were several adults that he didn’t recognize wearing red shirts and passing out sleeping bags. One woman in particular standing right by the doors caught his attention. Peter felt his mouth drop open at the sight of her.

“Is that-“

“Pepper Potts,” Michelle finished for him.

She was standing by the table with a large box in front of her, pulling out sleeping bag after sleeping bag and handing it to the kids who walked up. She held a kind smile on her face, but it was strained, and Peter was reminded that her fiancé was probably dead.

She, like him, was in mourning.

Although, every single person on earth probably was.

Michelle lingered by the door as Peter stepped forward.

“Hello,” Pepper Potts greeted him the moment her eyes landed on him, and he felt his own eyes widen, “Sleeping bag?”

He nodded.

Pepper Potts was talking to him.

_The_ Pepper Potts.

Pepper Potts rummaged around in the box and pulled out a red sleeping bag.

“This one good?”

He nodded again, swallowed, and forced his voice to come back to him.

“Y-y-yeah. That one’s nice.”

He was speaking to _Pepper Potts._

She handed the sleeping bag over and he took it, a grin finding its way onto his face, imagining just how much better he was going to sleep now.

He licked his lips and spoke up.

“What’s happening to us?”

He knew from his research online that she was running the plans for the “snap orphans.” There hadn’t been much online, not nearly enough to satisfy him at least, so why not go straight to the source?

She was here, after all. He wasn’t sure why she was at Midtown handing out sleeping bags instead of grieving her fiancé, but the fact that she was there was enough.

She blinked in surprise at the question, but she gave him a soft smile.

“We’re working on getting some shelters worked out,” she explained, “Stark Tower and the Avenger’s Compound are both going to open up sections to work as a shelter for you guys, as well as several other places around New York. In about a week or so, we’re going to start transferring you guys there, where we will have workers who will be helping you find any extended family to stay with. If not… well, we are going to have a press conference in a few days asking for foster parents, new and old, to step up.”

Peter nodded slightly, but he wasn’t done yet.

“The Avengers… are they close to reversing this?”

Her expression fell.

“I don’t know. I’m not… involved with the Avengers. Rhodey… ah, War Machine has told me some, but he’s been busy. All I can tell you is that they’re doing their best, and they’re not going to stop trying until they reverse it or know they can’t.”

Peter bit his lip and nodded. Of course, she wouldn’t know much about the Avengers. He should have remembered that. Tony Stark was her connection to the Avengers, and he was gone.

“Okay,” he whispered, trying not to show his disappointment on his face, “Okay. Thank you, Miss Potts.”

His eyes flicked over to Michelle, who was still standing at the door. He waved her over and watched as she hesitantly approached.

Pepper was already pulled another sleeping bag out of the box.

* * *

Waking up from the throes of a nightmare was never fun. Waking up from the throes of a nightmare that he didn’t remember but left him gasping for air and sweating buckets was even less fun.

Being woken up from said nightmare by someone he still hardly knew was the worst.

“You were crying,” Michelle said, her voice quiet. Her hand was still on his arm from where she had shaken him awake, but he couldn’t see her in the dark, “You were calling for some people named May and Ben.”

He took in a shuddering breath and slid out of his sleeping bag, pulling his knees to his cheek. His entire body was shaking, and his chest felt tight, almost like he needed to reach for his inhaler. He brought a hand to his cheek and felt that it was wet. He swallowed and looked away.

“My aunt and uncle,” he answered weakly, “my guardians.”

“Oh,” Michelle responded. She was quiet for a moment before she continued, “Did they snap?”

“I guess so. They would have called otherwise,” he said. He felt tears prickling at his eyes.

He missed them. He missed them more than anything. The Avengers couldn’t reverse it fast enough.

“Tell me about them.”

He couldn’t see her, but he felt her slide up beside him, felt her head lean against his shoulder.

They didn’t know each other very well…

But Peter figured they only really had each other now.

“Ben’s my dad’s brother. He’s great. Took me in when my parents died when I was six,” he began, chewing on his lip, “He makes pancakes every Saturday morning.”

* * *

When Peter woke up in the morning, he was still sitting up. Michelle had her head on his shoulder, and his head was resting against hers. She was still asleep, but when he tried to shift to stand up, her eyes blinked open.

“Sorry,” he whispered, trying and failing not to blush. His stomach growled, “Uh, you want to go get some breakfast?”

She nodded and rubbed her eyes. Her cheeks were faintly pink as well.

“Sorry about last night,” she said, voice quiet, “I shouldn’t have pried. I was tired.”

“It’s okay. It was… it was nice,” he answered honestly.

It was. He missed Ben and May and talking about them had almost been like they were back for a little bit.

_Talking_ to someone had made him feel a little less lonely.

He liked talking to Michelle.

“You know,” he said as they stood up, “When everything goes back to normal, we’re going to have missed several Academic Decathlon meetings.”

She made a hum of acknowledgement.

“Liz won’t be happy,” he said, ignoring the odd look she sent him, “We should probably practice. Do you have your notes with you?’

Her eyes flicked over to her bag.

“Yeah, loser. I do,” she said.

“Great!” Peter said, grinning, because this was the perfect thing to pass the time, “You want to quiz each other?”

Michelle gave him another odd look, like she wasn’t sure what to make with him, and he felt his grin fall for a moment, but then she nodded.

“Sure. Yeah, that sounds fun.”

* * *

“If I ever take Ned for granted, I want you to punch me in the face.”

Michelle snorted from beside him, watching as he dug through the suitcase that Ned had brought him earlier that day, exactly one week from the Snap. Now that things had calmed down a bit in the outside world and becoming increasingly obvious that the Avengers were struggling to reverse the Snap, Mrs. Walker had sent out a PSA to all the students to, if possible, bring students stuck at the school some of their things. Ned had, of course, shown up early that morning, gotten the key from Peter, and returned with a suitcase full of clothes, toiletries, and even some memorabilia.

“Clean clothes,” he sighed happily, pressing a shirt to his face and smelling it. He dropped it down and picked up his toothbrush and a half-empty carton of toothpaste, “I can brush my teeth!’

He was one of the lucky ones. Not many people had friends left who were willing and able to do this for them. Every single person on Earth was dealing with the ramifications of the Snap. Even the lucky ones had lost family and friends and were deep in their grief. He was lucky that Ned, though dealing with his own father’s disappearance, was still willing to help him out as much as he could.

Michelle hadn’t had anyone to do that for her.

He grimaced to himself as he remembered that, slowly setting the toothbrush and toothpaste back into the bag.

“Sorry. I don’t mean to gloat.”

Michelle shook her head. She was leaning against the wall beside him, her notebook open in her lap. When he arched his head slightly, he could see her putting the finishing touches on a realistic-looking sketch of him. He grinned.

She glanced up at him and snapped the book closed, before suddenly speaking up.

“What is the study of the changes within an organ or within an individual that accompany a certain disease?”

“Pathophysiology,” he answered quickly, grinning, “Give me a hard one.”

* * *

“Peter, if I close my eyes, I think that I can actually watch every single Star Wars movie in my head, and I’ve never even seen them. New topic.”

Peter blushed. They were sitting on the bleachers outside, watching as a group of teenagers ran around the football practice field playing kickball. Mrs. Walker had practically forced them to go outside, insisting that they needed some fresh air. Peter and Michelle had both been pretty hesitant about it, preferring their little science classroom, but he actually felt better now that he was outside.

A change of scenery was actually nice after ten days cooped up inside.

Finding ways to distract himself from the Snap, such as quizzing Michelle or letting her quiz him, or rambling on about Star Wars, was also nice after ten days.

Ten days with no new information.

Ten days without May and Ben.

He didn’t miss them any less, but he was learning the best ways to distract himself.

“Sorry. I just love Star Wars,” he said.

“I can tell,” she responded, smirking lightly. She turned her notebook around to show him her newest picture, which showed him leaning back on the bleachers, decked out in his favorite hoodie.

She hadn’t shown him the pictures at first, but she had gradually begun to reveal them to him.

“That’s a good one,” he said, “I like the shading on my hoodie.”

Eloise Putnam’s siblings, as well as a few other kids he has yet to learn the names of, came bounding up the bleachers towards them. The oldest, a boy with chestnut brown hair, plopped down beside him, grabbed his arm, and spoke in a whiny voice.

“Peter,” he said, pouting, “You said you would play hide-and-seek with us.”

He had. That was one of his strategies of distraction. Play with kids around the school, help distract them from what was going on as well. It was a win-win situation. Besides, the kids were pretty fun when they weren’t complaining over losing.

He glanced over at Michelle, not wanting to leave her alone, but she brushed him off.

“Go play, loser,” she said with a smirk.

Peter let out a laugh. He hopped up and followed the kids down the bleachers. A girl with braids and a frilly skirt grabbed onto his hand as they walked and looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Why does she call you a loser?” she asked, “That’s not very nice.”

“That’s just Michelle,’’ he answered her, “I think it’s a term of endearment.”

* * *

“Do you really think the Avengers are going to reverse this?”

The question comes on day twelve. Peter and Michelle are halfway through a game of chess on her smartphone, each seated on one end of the table in the science classroom with the phone in the middle of them.

He looked up at her, surprised by the question, by the sudden vulnerability in her voice.

“Of course,” he answered, shaking his head, “They’re the Avengers.”

“It’s been eleven days.”

“Twelve” he corrected, unhelpfully. He tapped a pawn and moved it forward.

“Don’t you think if they could fix it, they would have by now?” she asked, brushing her curly hair out of her face, “They couldn’t defeat that alien the first time.”

“They’re the Avengers,” he repeated, shaking his head, “They don’t… they don’t lose.”

“They already did.”

“No, it was just a setback. They’ll win. They have to.”

He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince: Michelle or himself.

She was quiet for a moment, frowning down at the phone and not taking her turn. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, loud and roaring for no good reason.

“I wish I had your optimism,” she finally said.

He swallowed and licked his lips.

He didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure how. He didn’t even want to entertain the idea that the Snap could be permanent. That would mean that May and Ben were gone, were really gone, and he didn’t want to think that he could be alone in the world.

Instead, he swallowed.

“It’s your turn.”

* * *

Day thirteen began with Michelle shaking Peter awake and thrusting a form into his face.

“Mrs. Walker just came by and handed these out,” she informed him as he slid out of his sleeping bag and took the form, “We have to turn them in by lunch. We’re leaving tomorrow.”

“ _What_?”

He scrambled to his feet, eyes wide. He had known they weren’t staying at the school forever, had talked to Pepper about it, had seen the press conference where she pleaded with people to open up their homes to the ‘Snap Orphans,’ but somehow, it had not truly dawned on him.

They were leaving.

He looked down at the form in his hand, frowning. It looked rather complex. There were spots to fill out his name, age, date of birth, social security number, address, city he was born in, name of his parents, name of his guardians, any other family he knew of, any allergies or medical problems he had, and even more. Towards the bottom were blanks for his favorite color, clothing sizes, and whether or not he had a key to his home.

“According to Mrs. Walker, it’s an identification form,” Michelle explained, “They’re going to use it to try and find some family members for us to live with.”

Peter already knows that there isn’t any for him. His mother was an only child, and her parents had died before he was even born. His father’s only sibling was Ben, and his paternal grandparents had passed away when he was nine, one after the other in the span of a week, his grandmother from cancer and his grandfather from grief.

May had family, but they weren’t _his_ family, and they had never really been fond of Ben or him. He highly doubted any of them would take him in if asked, and he didn’t want them to.

“We’re leaving,” he said, blinking at the paper in front of him.

“Yep.”

He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Their science classroom had grown to be another home in the thirteen days they had been there. He had grown used to sleeping on the floor with his sleeping bag next to Michelle’s, able to hear the soft music drifting from her ear buds as she slept. He had memorized the science posters around the room, had begun to enjoy spinning around in the chair behind his teacher’s desk, loved being able to look out the window and see a group of teenagers running around the courtyard.

“I don’t want to go,” he said. His hands shook and he sat pulled out one of the chairs and sat down, staring at the form in front of him as if it was his enemy.

He wanted to wait here until the Snap was reversed and May and Ben came and picked him up.

“I don’t think we have a choice,” Michelle responded. She blinked, and he could see that her notebook was open onto a picture that she had drawn of the science classroom, meticulously copying every detail onto the paper. She closed the notebook and stuffed it into her bag.

He bit his lip, grabbed his bookbag, and fished out a pen.

“Do you know where the shelter is?”

She pulled the chair out across from him and sat down with her own form.

“Stark Tower,” she said.

His eyes snapped up at that. They widened.

“Stark Tower?” he repeated.

He had heard that a few floors of Stark Tower were being opened up to be used as a temporary shelter. He hadn’t expected that would be where he ended up, though.

“Stark tower,” she confirmed. She pointed to the door, “It’s a whirlwind of excitement out there. We’re some of the lucky ones, I guess. According to the internet, some of these shelters are in abandoned supermarkets.”

It’s crazy. It’s absolutely absurd. The idea that he would be stepping into Stark Tower, sleeping in Stark Tower, living in Stark Tower, for any amount of time… impossible. People like Peter didn’t even go near the place.

“Stark Tower,” he repeated, shaking his head in disbelief.

Michelle arched an eyebrow at the excitement painted on his face.

“You’re such a nerd.”

_“Stark Tower.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! Thank you for all the comments, kudos, and bookmarks! Let me know what you think about this one!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter settles in at Stark Tower.

Peter had seen Stark Tower before, but only at a distance. Once, he and Ben had driven right by it, and Peter had stared up at it with wide eyes. He had imagined that Tony Stark himself was inside, probably working on his Iron Man suit or preparing to go save lives. He had never been inside of it.

Now, as he and his classmates, as well as students from a few other schools, piled along into the cafeteria on the 34 th floor, he couldn’t believe that he was there.

The cafeteria was huge. It could easily fit ten of his school’s cafeteria inside of it. The middle-aged man who had led them up to it had said that it was where Stark Employees ate, but as Stark Industries was currently focused entirely on the Snap Orphans instead of the actual company (a decision put into place by CEO Pepper Potts), they would be able to use it for the time being.

They were instructed to take a seat, and Peter was so busy staring around at the tall ceilings, the ornate designs on the walls, and the ginormous chandelier, that he didn’t even notice when a plate of food was placed in front of him.

“Welcome to Stark Tower.”

Peter’s attention was drawn to the front of the cafeteria, where Pepper Potts was holding a microphone and smiling at them. He glanced next to him, to where Michelle was already digging into her food. She didn’t look up to the voice, but Peter could tell she was listening.

“While you eat, there are some things we need to go over,” Pepper spoke into the microphone, and every child in the cafeteria snapped towards her, eager to know more, “Welcome to Stark Tower, where you guys will be staying for the next few days. Hopefully, it won’t be too long, but you are welcome here until a family is found for you.

“After you eat your lunch, you will be taken up to where you will be sleeping. If you are three years old to ten years old, you will go with Stark Employees to floor thirty-six. If you are eleven to eighteen, you will go to floor thirty-seven. There, you will find your bed that has your name on it. On top of each bed is a box full of clothes your size, as per the form you filled out, as well as necessities you may need. If you need anything else, ask an employee or volunteer.”

Peter blinked at that. That was more than he was expecting. Clothes?

“We are going to be working on finding family for you to stay with. FRIDAY, the AI that runs Stark Tower, will call people periodically to talk with an employee if we have any news. Also, if you have a key to your home, employees will be taking you in groups over the next week to grab any belongings you want to take with you.”

That was good. While Ned had brought him his clothes and toiletries, there had been a few more items that he wanted to grab or keepsakes he hoped to have, and he was dying to see his apartment again. He missed it.

“Curfew is at ten,” Pepper continued, “So make sure you’re in bed by then. Breakfast is at eight in the morning. You are expected to be in the cafeteria for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Other than that, you are free to stick around by your bed or go to floor thirty-eight, which is a common area. For safety reasons, we are asking that you stick to the five floors that have been reserved for you.”

Oh, Peter was definitely going to be doing some exploring when he was done. Five floors of Stark Tower free to roam? Even though he knew that they had most likely been cleared of any cool technology, he was still desperate to look around.

“Now, I won’t bore you guys with anymore information. If you have any questions, seek out an adult around the tower. For now, eat your lunch, make some friends, and remember that we are here to help you.”

She turned off the microphone and walked away from the front. A group of kids towards the back started to clap, and Peter joined in, but it didn’t catch on.

* * *

The thirty-seventh floor, where the kids aged eleven to eighteen were led after lunch, was split down the middle, with each side of the room having four huge rooms that Peter was sure were used as labs at one point. High ceilings and tiled floors made the place look gigantic, but he was pretty sure that could also be because it was. There weren’t any kind of pictures or posters on the walls, leaving them incredibly bare, but the walls that led to the outside were made entirely of windows, which gave plenty of natural light.

Each room had a sign on the door. The second door on the right had a sign that said “Boys 13/14.”

Over one hundred bunk beds, all with varying colored blankets, lined the walls of the room. Each bed, top and bottom, had a sign on it with someone’s name, and just like Ms. Potts had said, there was a box on each one. 

By the time Peter got there, several other boys had already arrived. A few had found their bed and were digging through the boxes, while others were pacing the rows for their own. 

Peter missed his bed the first time and had to turn back once he realized that he was looking at the bed for a kid named Tyler Quinn. When he turned around and located the sign that read “Peter Parker,” he found himself staring at the bottom bunk of a bed with a bright red blanket draped across. The box on top of the blanket was filled, just like Ms. Potts had said, with a few pairs of underwear, three pairs of jeans, a pair of sweatpants, four t-shirts, socks, a toothbrush and toothpaste, a comb, deodorant, shampoo and conditioner, and some soap. There was even a teddy bear along the top, which was cute but unnecessary, because there was no way he was going to sleep in a room with over a hundred teenage boys with a stuffed animal.

It was a nice gesture, though. He was sure the younger kids, and even some more braver kids his age, would enjoy it.

He set his suitcase on top of the bed, opened it up, and packed up his new things into it. He even tucked the teddy bear into it, before he closed it and slid the suitcase underneath his bed.

The room had filled up with boys by the time he was finished, and another boy had climbed onto the bed above Peter’s without a word to him. It was weird being in a room with so many people. He had gotten used to sleeping in a room with only Michelle.

So, instead of heading Ms. Potts instruction to make friends, he decided that now was the perfect time to go explore his new home for the unforeseeable future.

* * *

The snap orphans had access to floors thirty-four to thirty-eight. Floor thirty-four was the cafeteria, which Peter had already been to, so he settled for checking out floor thirty-five.

Only, when he stepped into the elevator, he found himself staring in confusion at the elevator wall where the buttons normally would be.

“Is everything okay, sir?”

He nearly jumped out of his skin at the disembodied voice that filled the elevator.

“My apologies for frightening you,” the feminine voice said, “I am FRIDAY., an AI. Would you like for me to take you to a certain floor? Please note that I am only allowed to let you go to floors thirty-four through thirty-eight.”

Right. Ms. Potts had mentioned an AI by the name of FRIDAY. He had not realized that the AI would run the elevator. 

“Uh, can you take me to floor thirty-five?” he asked, blinking.

“Certainly,” FRIDAY said, and Peter felt the elevator begin to move, “May I have your name to add to my system?”

His eyes widened at the request, and he stammered out his answer.

“Uh, Peter. Peter Parker.”

“Thank you, Mr. Parker.”

“Just call me Peter,” he said before he could stop himself.

“Okay, Peter,” FRIDAY said, “Here’s your stop.”

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Peter thanked the AI as he stepped out onto the floor.

The first thing that Peter noticed when he stepped onto the thirty-fifth floor was that it was eerily silent. The second thing that he noticed was that the floor was set up similarly to the floor that his bed was on, only there were seven rooms instead of eight, and the seventh room was about twice the size of the others. The floor also looked smaller than his, although he was pretty sure that wasn’t actually the case and there was more to the floor that he couldn’t see.

He walked down the hall, curious, and peered at the signs on the door, They read, “0 months-3 months,” “4 months-6 months,” “7 months-9 months,” “10 months-12 months,” “13 months-18 months,” “19 months-24 months,” and the larger room read “2 years.”

Peter blinked in surprise. He hadn’t realized that Stark Tower would be housing babies as well as children, though he figured it made sense. There were probably many helpless babies in his situation.

As he was standing there, pondering the discovery, one of the doors opened, and Peter jumped at the sudden sound of screaming babies that entered the hall.

Soundproof rooms. Smart. He could just imagine the chaos the floor would be without them, especially at night. 

One of the workers (most likely a volunteer) stepped out. It was an elderly woman leaned over a walker. The door closed behind her, blocking out the sound from inside, and she looked up at him.

“Oh, hello dear. I didn’t expect to see any teenagers on this floor.”

“Hello,” he responded hesitantly, “Uh, I’m sorry. I was just looking around. Exploring. I was curious.”

“It’s fine, dear. I was just stepping out because I remembered that I left my pills in my car,” the woman said. Her voice trembled slightly, but she didn’t seem upset by anything. If anything, she smiled at him, small and sweet, “What’s your name?”

“I’m Peter, ma’am,” he answered.

“Ah, Peter. I’m sure Bea wouldn’t mind a helping hand in my absence, though. Would you mind?”

She gestured a shaking hand to the door. Peter’s eyes widened.

“Uh, I’ve never- I’ve never watched any kids before.”

“That’s fine, dear. It isn’t hard,” the woman was already opening the door and ushering him in.

He hesitated, but nodded, stepping inside of the room.

He could immediately tell why the lady had suggested this. The room, which housed babies seven to nine months, had twelve babies in it, with some sitting in cribs and others laying on the floor or half-crawling, half-scooting around. There were even a few sitting in something that looked like a small round high-chair with toys on it. A total of four of them were screaming. With the elderly lady having stepped out there was only one other worker there, a middle-aged woman who was in the middle of changing a diaper.

“Hello,” he said, “Do you need any help?”

The woman, who must have been Bea, glanced back at him. It showed how stressed she was at the moment, because she didn’t even question it.

“Yeah, have you ever changed a diaper before?”

Peter blanched. 

“No,” he admitted. 

“Time to find out,” Bea said, not even glancing up from her baby. Instead, she jerked her head towards a nearby crib, “Chloe needs a diaper change.”

Peter stared warily at the baby. The girl had a head of dark hair and chubby cheeks. Her face was red as she screamed.

He almost refused. He almost backed out and raced towards the elevator and begged FRIDAY to take him back to his floor. He didn’t, though, because while the urge to flee was strong, he knew he would feel awful if he left this woman alone.

He approached the baby cautiously and gently picked her up, feeling like she would shatter in his hands. She continued to scream as he carried her to the nearby changing table, but he felt like she ebbed off just a little. That might have been his imagination.

He glanced nervously at the woman, trying to see how she was doing it. 

“Okay. Chloe, right?” he said to the baby, trying to swallow his nerves. He sniffed and instantly regretted it when the smell assaulted his nostrils, “Whoa. Who knew babies could smell so much? You’re a stinky little thing, aren’t you?”

He glanced around the changing station for supplies and saw a few cubbies underneath. He knelt down to search but quickly popped back up as the screaming baby rolled over and started to attempt to crawl off the table.

“Whoa!” he yelped. He quickly picked the child up, feeling her squirm in his grasp, “Hey, Chloe. It’s okay. We just gotta-gotta change you.”

He held the screeching baby in one arm and knelt down again to search for supplies. He found some baby wipes, and a packet of diapers with a sticky note on it that had Chloe’s name on it, as well as a few other names.

“Okay. Okay, here we go,” he said. He set the items to the side and laid the baby back down.

He glanced back at Bea. She had already finished changing the diaper of the baby she had before and had sat the little boy in a crib. She was moving onto another child now, and Peter felt horribly out of his element.

He swallowed and turned back to the baby.

“Okay, Chloe,” he said, and he brought shaking hands down to begin, “You’re loud, you know? Probably could break glass. Did you know- Hey! Don’t kick me!”

By the time he had finished clumsily changing her diaper, babbling nervously the entire time, Bea had approached him, bouncing one of the babies.

“Not too bad,” she said over his shoulder, and he jumped in surprise as he finished clipping the girl’s onesie back on, “Chloe’s a fighter. She’s only been here a day but I can already tell. Here.”

She handed a rattle over Peter’s shoulder and shook it in front of the girl’s face. Small, chubby hands reached up and grabbed it. Chloe shook it a few times, and her cries settled down. She giggled.

“Can you put her back in her crib?” Bea asked as she set the baby in her arms onto the floor. Peter watched as the little boy crawled away towards a toy on the floor, “And grab me some cheerios from the pantry over there.”

Peter could do that. That was much less terrifying than changing a diaper.

He picked up Chloe, who was finally no longer her screaming her head off, and lowered her into her crib with the rattle still in her hands, before walking over to the pantry. He had just pulled the box of cheerios out when the door opened, and the elderly woman walked back in.

“Thank you so much, dear,” she said as she sat her purse, now presumably with her medication in it, on a nearby table. She then slowly inched her way over to a chair and sat down, “Bea, how was he?”

“Changed a diaper, Margaret,” Bea answered with a grin, “Can you believe it?”

The woman, Margaret, grinned.

“Ah, and who was your little foe, dear?”

Peter pointed to the giggling Chloe.

“Ah, you couldn’t have given him Evan, Bea? Evan is much easier.”

“Evan didn’t need a diaper change,” Bea responded simply, but she was smirking. Peter suddenly felt as if the woman had given him a hard baby on purpose. Probably so that she didn’t have to deal with her.

Honestly, Peter couldn’t blame her. 

“Um, I better be going,” he said, “Good luck.”

“Thank you, Peter. If you ever feel like giving a helping hand again, feel free to drop by.”

Instead of telling her that he probably wouldn’t be back down, he simply nodded, gave a quick “Of course,” and made a beeline for the exit.

Changing a diaper was probably one of the most stressful times of his life, but he felt good about it, glad that he could make a difference, if even a small one.

* * *

The next floor was much crazier than the other one. When Peter stepped out on the floor, he could instantly see that while it was set up identical to his own, but unlike the previous floor, many of the doors were open, and there were children running around in the hall instead of cooped up in the rooms. He could distantly hear a few kids crying, but several were squealing as they ran down the hall, playing tag with others. He could see some workers trying to corral some of the younger ones, but it didn’t seem to be working.

He stepped back onto the elevator, quickly deciding that he didn’t need to explore this floor, but before the elevator doors could close, a four-year-old boy barrelled into his legs with high-pitched laughter.

“Wait!” a volunteer, a middle-aged man with bright red hair, shouted as he jogged up to them, “Don’t let him on there!”

Peter quickly hooked his arms under the boy’s arms and heaved him off the elevator. The child giggled and kicked his legs as if he was still running. 

He handed the boy over to the volunteer.

“Sorry, son,” the man said, shaking his head as he held onto the hyperactive child, “This one is a handful. Keeps trying to escape.”

“No worries,” he responded, “I probably should have remembered that this floor was where the younger kids are staying. I was just wanting to look around.”

The man hummed and set the boy on the ground. Peter watched as the child took off the second his feet touched the floor.

“Ah, well, curiosity killed the cat,” the man said, shrugging, “Unless you feel like entertaining a group of children, though, I’d recommend heading back to your floor or to the common area.”

The common area. Right. Peter definitely wanted to take a look at that.

“You’re right. Sorry, sir. I’ll be on my way.”

Making sure no more children were attempting an escape, he quickly hopped back into the elevator.

* * *

The moment Peter stepped off the elevator into the common area, he was instantly floored. His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened as he stared at the room in front of him.

It was set up very differently than the other rooms. The hall that he entered was wide and spacious, and there were a few ping pong and air hockey tables set up lining the hall. The walls full of windows, allowing him to easily see that the two rooms to his right and left were absolutely ginormous. 

To his right, there was a gym, with basketball hoops, a rack full of different types of sports balls and jump ropes, and even a running track that went around it. There were a few teenagers there already. He could see a group of girls playing basketball, and there was an older teenage boy running around the track.

To his left, there was something that looked like a student lounge. Dozens of round tables covered the floor, a few with board games or cards on top of them. Flat-screens lined the walls, each hooked up to some type of video game console or having hundreds of DVDs lined up ready to go. Towards the back of the room were hundreds of toys in bins, as well as doll houses and toy kitchens. There were a few other games littered about, such as foosball and air hockey tables and even some arcade games. 

There seemed to be some other smaller rooms towards the back, so he jogged down the hall until he reached a spot where it opened up into a T shape. There were what looked like eight rooms lining the wall, though two of them were restrooms. These rooms didn’t have windows that let him see in, so he had to peer into each individually. 

There was a room lined with bookshelves and comfy-looking chairs. Another room had dozens of computers. There was even one that was separated into a few smaller rooms with an instrument inside and soundproof walls. 

He found Michelle in a room with easels and paint, bins full of thousands of crayons, markers, and colored pencils, glitter, glue, popsicle sticks, pipe cleaners, beads and string, clay, and more.

Michelle was curled up in a chair, ignoring the arts and crafts around her in favor of drawing in her notebook.

“This is insane, Michelle,” he said, drawing her attention over to him as he shut the door. She glanced up and shut her notebook, “This floor is… a lot. How in the world did they get this ready in two weeks? Probably less than that?”

“Money can buy a lot of things,” Michelle said, frowning, “Even in times of disaster. Besides, they probably had a lot of this already set up and just had to add a bit more to make it kid-friendly.”

“There’s a  _ gym _ ,” he said.

“The Avengers used it,” she answered, and Peter goggled at her with wide eyes, “There are targets hanging from the ceiling that were obviously meant for arrows, and there is a dent in one of the walls that looked like someone with super strength punched it.”

Peter hadn’t noticed that. Then again, he had never been the most observant person, and he hadn’t been on the floor for too long.

“ _ Wow _ .”

Michelle smirked at the expression on his face. She kicked her feet back and tilted her head lightly.

“What have you been up to, Peter?” she asked.

“I changed a diaper,” he answered, before blushing furiously.

She arched an eyebrow at that and laughed. Peter couldn’t help but grin at the sound. He wasn’t sure he had heard her laugh before.

“I wish I could have seen that,” she said. She opened her notebook back up, a nonverbal cue that she wanted to get back to her drawing. He stood up to leave, but she stopped him, “Peter?”

“Yeah?” he asked, turning back to her.

Her brown eyes peaked up from behind her notebook. She smiled.

“My friends call me MJ, not Michelle.”

* * *

The next three days passed by relatively smoothly, and Peter found that the feeling he had felt when he helped out in the baby room was too much to ignore. He fell into a routine. He woke up an hour before everyone else so that he could get a shower in relative peace, ate breakfast with Michelle (Or MJ, as she had requested to be called), and then headed down to help out more with the babies (and a few times even with the other kids). He tended to stay with Bea and Margaret, but he would often get pulled into another room whenever a volunteer had to step out for any reason.

He enjoyed it. Changing diapers was still gross, but he could see the relief in their eyes when he stopped by to help. An extra set of hands, even inexperienced, was a lifesaver to the workers still in their own grief and trying to take care of multiple children at a time.

He would have stayed around all day to help (because when he was chasing babies around, he wasn’t thinking about May and Ben), but he was kicked out at lunch time every day, and while he always returned after eating, he would be kicked out for the rest of the day around three.

_ “You need time to be a kid,” _ Margaret had told him as she shooed him onto the elevator,  _ “Go play.” _

Because of that, the rest of his day was often spent in the student lounge, typically babbling to MJ or surfing the internet in the computer room. He had watched several movies as well, especially if he heard Star Wars playing from one of the televisions.

On the fourth day, though, things changed.

“Peter can you hand me a diaper for Aiden?”

Peter popped up from the floor where he was playing with Victoria and Mateo and grabbed a diaper from under the nearby changing table. He handed it over to Bea, who was struggling to keep Aiden from leaping out of her arms.

Chloe suddenly started to scream. He spun around and found her grasping for a toy that Evan was playing with. Moving quickly, he grabbed a stuffed animal that he knew Chloe liked and held it in front of her face. She quickly calmed down and grasped it, little fists digging into the poor toy.

He was just about to grab Leo from his crib when FRIDAY suddenly spoke up.

“Peter, your presence is requested in Ms. Potts’ office.”

Peter’s eyes widened. His back straightened and he looked up at the ceiling with wide eyes. There were only a handful of reasons why Pepper Potts would be calling him to her office.

“Go on, Peter,” Margaret said from where she was sitting in her chair, reading a book to a few of the babies, “FRIDAY will take you there when you get on the elevator.”

He nodded shakily and forced himself to leave the room. 

The trek to the elevator felt long and daunting. A bad feeling settled in his stomach, and he swallowed hard as he stepped into the elevator.

The elevator began moving the moment he was inside of it.

“Hello, Peter,” FRIDAY said, “How are you doing today?”

His hands shook. He stuffed them in his pockets and felt his inhaler.

“Good,” he answered, “How are you?”

There was a moment’s pause, as if the question surprised the AI.

“I do not feel human emotions,” she responded, “However, my system is running well, if that is what you mean.”

Peter smiled lightly and nodded.

“That’s good, FRI. Where is Ms. Potts’ office at?”

“Ms. Potts’ office is located on the eighty-sixth floor. Her office will be directly to your right when you step off the elevator.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

As the elevator came to a stop and opened, Peter swallowed. He stepped out cautiously, eyes immediately zeroing in on the name on the nearby door that read “Virginia Potts, CEO.”

He knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

He slowly opened the door and entered the office, eyes immediately catching on Ms. Potts sitting behind a desk with piles of forms in front of her. She gestured to the chair in front of her desk.

“Come take a seat, Mr. Parker.”

He sat down, feeling an awful lot like a kid sent to the principal’s office.

Ms. Potts smiled at him. She held up a form that he recognized as the one he filled out.

“I’ve heard a lot about our little helper over the last few days,” she said with a smile, “Our employees seem to be very fond of you.”

He blushed at that.

“I’m-I’m just helping,” he said, “I mean, not much. I’m not very experienced dealing with kids, but they seemed like they could use the help.”

“I’m sure they did,” Ms. Potts said with a nod. He felt her eyes scan his face, as if searching for something, “May I ask why you’re helping them instead of hanging out with the other kids your age in the common area?”

Peter’s eyes widened.

“I don’t mean to be disrespectful… or-or act like I don’t appreciate all of this. I mean, this stuff must have cost a fortune,” he babbled, flushing red, “I go to the common area every evening! It’s a really great room.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Ms. Potts said. There was a small smile on her face, “I don’t mind that you’re helping out. In fact, I think it’s good. It’s definitely helping out our employees. I’m just curious as to why you are doing it.”

“Oh,” he answered. His face was a bright red, but it was beginning to cool down. He squirmed in his seat and frowned, “Well, why are you helping us?”

The question seemed to surprise Ms. Potts. She blinked and leaned back in her chair. She brought a hand to her stomach, and a small, sad smile came onto her lips.

“If my baby was already born and I disappeared when the Snap happened, I would want someone to look after them.”

His eyes widened at her admission.

“You’re pregnant?”

She nodded.

“I found out the day Tony went to space to fight Thanos,” she explained. Her eyes shimmered, “He had mentioned having a dream that we had a kid earlier in the day, and as he was talking about it, I started putting things together, all of the symptoms that I had pushed off on being stressed or getting older. I didn’t tell him, though. I wasn’t sure until after he was already in space, and I lost contact with him… but yes, I’m pregnant. Four months along, actually.”

He wondered, briefly, if she had told the press yet, but then he remembered that the press wouldn’t be reporting on something as mundane as a pregnancy when half the world’s population was gone.

“Oh,” he said, unable to find any other words, because he knew that her pregnancy was bitter sweet, because Tony Stark was dead. 

She shook her head and set his form down, smiling at him, but there was a sadness in her smile.

“I didn’t call you in here to talk about myself,” she said. She took a breath and tapped his form, “As you know, we’ve been doing some research into all of your families. The first thing we have been doing is confirming that your guardians were snapped and weren’t simply unable to contact you.”

His eyes snapped up and caught onto hers. He could tell that something was wrong.

“Well, we were able to confirm that May Parker, your aunt, was snapped,” Ms. Potts said, voice professional but soft, “A coworker saw it happen while she was working at the hospital. Your uncle, however…”

His stomach dropped. Ms. Potts hesitated and continued.

“I’m sorry, Peter. Your uncle was struck by an unmanned car in front of a restaurant called Delmar’s when the Snap happened. He died on impact.”

All the air seemed to leave his lungs. He stared at her, frozen, mind stuttering, unable to comprehend the words that she just said.

“No,” he breathed out. His chest felt tight.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Ms. Potts said again.

His hands shook. He coughed and wheezed, shaking his head furiously.

“No,” he repeated, “No, no, no.”

Ben was not dead.

Ben couldn’t be dead.

“Peter?” Ms. Potts’ voice was soft and gentle, but he flinched away from it.

She was lying to him. She had to be lying to him.

He tried to say something, to shout at her, but his throat felt like it was closing up. He wrenched his inhaler out of his pocket with shaky hands, quickly bringing it to his lips.

He breathed in the medication. His chest loosened up, but tears escaped from his eyes and trickled down his cheeks. A sob left his lips the moment he pulled the inhaler away, and he shook his head, crumpling in on himself.

Ms. Potts was by his side in an instant. He felt her arms wrap around him and felt his body lean into her. Normally, he would be embarrassed, but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything other than grief.

When the Snap was reversed, Ben wouldn’t be back.

He was dead.

* * *

It was two days later when Peter was able to go by his apartment to pick things up. He was taken with a group of kids who had lived in around the same area, but he moved in a daze most of the day, staring into space as he sat outside apartments of kids he didn’t know, waiting for them to finish packing. 

He remembered going into his apartment, though. He remembered staring at the walls covered in pictures of him, May, and Ben, remembered seeing his Uncle Ben’s houseshoes on the floor by the couch and his Aunt May’s jacket on the coat rack. 

He fished out another suitcase from his uncle’s closet and packed mechanically, brain on autopilot. He grabbed a few outfits from his closet that he wanted to keep that Ned had missed when he had packed a bag for him, picked up his extra inhaler, and even took a few pictures off the wall. He packed up some comic books, a container of legos, and some old photo albums that his aunt had in the closet. 

His hands lingered over his aunt’s jewelry box for several minutes before he opened it up and found his parent’s wedding rings at the bottom. He pocketed those, as well as May’s favorite necklace, just in case something happened to the apartment before she got back. His uncle’s watch was on his nightstand, and he didn’t hesitate before he grabbed that as well and put it on. A few other things that May and Ben had always insisted were family heirlooms were put in the suitcase as well for safekeeping.

He hesitated for a moment before he grabbed May’s overnight bag and packed up several of her favorite outfits, just in case. She would want them when she got back, and if the apartment was looted or the landlord decided to rent it out to someone else before May got back, she would need her clothes.

Once he had finished, he found himself standing in the middle of the living room, both bags in his hands. His feet felt glued to the floor, and he swallowed. A part of his brain, the pessimistic side that he had been trying to ignore, wondered if this was the last time he would ever see the apartment or any of the other things that he was having to leave behind.

“Peter?” the volunteer that had taken him to the apartment peeked in from the front door, “Are you ready to go?”

He sniffled and wiped a tear off his cheek before glancing over.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.”

* * *

Twenty-two days had passed since the snap when the news came in the form of a press conference. Peter, whose phone had lost service due to him being unable to pay the plan, found out when he walked into the lounge to look for MJ.

Instead of movies or video games, the press conference was playing on the TVs. Hundreds of kids were surrounding them, eyes wide and horrified.

_ “I am sorry to say that our mission to reverse the Snap was unsuccessful,”  _ War Machine said, looking even more defeated than the time when he had explained that Thanos had won,  _ “When we found Thanos, he had already destroyed the stones. Thanos is dead, but we cannot bring back those we have lost. The Snap is permanent.” _

One of the teenage boys grabbed a ball from the pool table and chucked it at the wall. A few kids burst into tears. Others stared blankly at the man on the television.

Peter swallowed. His knees trembled and he let himself sink to the floor. He felt a hand on his shoulder. MJ knelt down beside him.

They were gone. They were all gone.

He was, and would continue to be, alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter! Hope you guys enjoy!  
> Next chapter is going to shift gears a little bit. We're going to introduce Harley, and we're even going to get part of the chapter from his third person limited POV.  
> Let me know in a comment what you think! We've finally gotten to the point where Tony is now back on Earth and they've killed Thanos, so things are going to pick up a bit now.


	4. Chapter 4

“The kid’s mom and sister both snapped. Dad’s out of the picture. They sent him to live with his cousin, but she killed herself. Couldn’t deal with the snap being permanent. The boy’s got nowhere to go."

Harley Keener frowned and kicked his feet out, leaning back in the chair. The two police officers obviously thought they were being much quieter than they were, because he could hear them clear as day talking about his situation.

He licked his lips and let his eyes trail over the cracks in the walls of the police station.

“Does he have any other family?”

“Not that he knows of.”

“Great. Another kid to the group home, then.”

Harley had heard of the group home in Rose Hill. They had cleared out an old supermarket and packed the kids inside like sardines, with only a few of the kids even having sleeping bags. With absolutely nothing to keep the kids occupied, there had been plenty of reports of fights breaking out, and food was apparently going scarce. Kids were dirty from lack of anywhere to bathe or shower. It wasn’t pleasant. It definitely wasn’t somewhere that he wanted to go.

He had thought he would avoid it. Miranda had taken him in, after all, the moment she heard that his mom was gone. She had been sure that it wouldn’t last long and had taken the news that it was permanent hard. Harley found her body.

The television in the police station was on. It was a small little thing, hanging from the ceiling at an awkward angle, but he could see that it was playing the news.

He found himself staring at it, trying to ignore the discussion of his future, or what was left of it.

It took him a moment to recognize what the headline said.

“TONY STARK ALIVE.”

He blinked and stared at those words. Those three little words, fourteen letters. It was such a short headline, but it packed a punch.

He leaped out of his seat and peered into the office where the two police officers were standing. He sent them a grin that was only partly forced.

“Hey, can I use the phone?”

“The phone? Who do you need to call? You remember some family, kid?” the office who had picked him up from the hospital asked.

He shook his head.

“No, I just want to talk to a friend. Am I not allowed to, officer?” He cocked an eyebrow at the man and forced as much confidence as possible into his voice.

He wasn’t feeling very confident.

He hadn’t for the last twenty five days.

And now his heart was pounding against his chest, mind racing, because the Mechanic was alive.

“You ain’t arrested, kid,” the officer shook his head, “Have at it.”

Harley nodded quickly and plopped back down on his seat. He pulled his phone out and quickly scanned through his contacts until he came across the one he was looking for.

Mechanic.

The call rang a total of three times before he heard Tony’s voice on the other end, weak but hopeful.

“Harley?”

He couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He fought back tears that threatened to fall. Tony was alive. He was alive.

“Mechanic.”

There was a choked noise from the other end of the line.

“I’m so glad you’re alive, kid.”

“Right back at you,” he responded. He kicked his leg out and bit his lip, “I thought you were dead.”

“So did I.”

Harley sniffed. When his classmates had disappeared around him twenty-two days ago, he had immediately pulled out his phone and tried to call Tony, because he knew the man would know what was going on. He hadn’t gotten an answer, and later, after finding out that his mom and sister were gone, he was told that Tony was most likely dead as well.

“How are you doing?” he found himself asking, his voice barely above a whisper. He wasn’t one to talk about his feelings typically, but he would prefer anything that would get the image of Miranda’s body out of his mind.

There was a moment where Tony didn’t speak, and his voice shook ever so slightly when he did.

“Honestly, not good. Twenty days in space will do that to you. I’m doing better than I was, though.”

Harley hummed. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, focusing on Tony’s voice.

“What… what happened up there?”

“Fought an alien and lost… badly,” Tony answered, “Floated through space in a damaged alien spaceship until we were rescued.”

“We?”

“An alien named Nebula was with me,” he answered, “She already left, though. Her and the raccoon.”

“A raccoon?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Harley found himself smiling. It was easy to fall back into a rhythm with Tony. The two of them had gotten close over the years. He talked on the phone with Tony once a week, and once a month Tony tried to come down for the weekend as long as there wasn’t any world-saving business going on.

Tony’s supposed death had hit almost as hard as his mother’s and sister’s. 

“What about you, kid? How have you been?”

His smile fell. He thought back to the last few weeks, to the grief and anger and long, sleepless nights. He thought about his mom and his sister. He thought about Miranda and how she took him in, but spent her days locked in her room, waiting for her husband and daughter to come back. He thought about the heart-wrenching sobs he had heard from her bedroom when the news broke that they weren’t returning. He thought about her lifeless eyes when he opened her door.

“Kid? You okay?”

“‘Course I am!” he said with feigned confidence. He shook his head and pulled his knee to his chest, wrapping his free arm around it as he spoke.

“Harley, I’ve known you for years. What’s wrong?” Tony asked. He was quiet for a moment, before saying, in a hesitant voice, “Your mom?”

Harley bit his lip.

“She’s gone.”

Tony cursed. Harley gave a teasing chastisement of “language,” but it was weak.

“Willow’s gone, too,” he added, and his breath hitched in his chest at the loss of his little sister, “It’s just me, now.”

“No. No, you’re not,” Tony said firmly, “It’s not just you. You’ve got me. Okay, kid? You’ve got me. Who are you staying with?”

Harley winced. Miranda’s lifeless eyes flashed in his mind, and he tried to push it away.

“I think they’re taking me to a group home,” he answered, “I was staying with my cousin but… she’s gone now, too.”

Tony didn’t push him for more answers, and Harley was grateful for that. He didn’t want to think about it.

“How would you like to come live with me?”

* * *

The nightmare that wrenched Peter from his sleep had already flickered out of his memory by the time he opened his eyes, but the sudden tightening of his chest and inability to breathe kept him miles away from calm. His heart pounded as he jerked up, hand flying out to his bedside table to grab his inhaler.

He grabbed air.

“W-Wha-”

He wheezed and leaned more, desperate for his inhaler, but the action only caused him to topple off the side of his bed. 

“Quiet,” someone groaned, “‘m trying to sleep.”

Right. He wasn’t home. He was at Stark Tower.

He didn’t have a nightstand. His inhaler was in his bag. 

He clumsily threw his hands out underneath his bed and yanked his bag out from where he had stored it. In the dark, he patted the bag down frantically until he found the front pocket and located his inhaler.

As he breathed in the medicine, he closed his eyes and focused on the sounds around him. He could hear the soft breathing and quiet snores of the other boys and even a pair of boys talking softly to each other on the other side of the room. 

There was no Ben coming to make sure he was okay. There was no May knocking at his door to ask what the noise was. 

He was alone. 

As the medicine worked its way into his lungs, he took in several deep breaths. His hands still shook, though, and his eyes burned with tears. He wanted nothing more than to have May and Ben with him again, but that wasn’t going to happen.

They were gone.

Forever. 

Trembling hands reached for his suitcase. He sucked in a breath and opened it, before quickly grabbing the teddy bear that he had found in his box the first day at Stark Tower. He didn’t care if he was mocked for it. He needed something, some kind of comfort. He would rather have his aunt or uncle, but this would have to do.

He crawled back into his bed and buried his face into the stuffed animal.

* * *

The days passed by slowly for Peter, but at the same time they blurred together. He lost track of what day it was and threw himself into helping the volunteers and workers, spending as much time as he possibly could holed up with the babies or corralling small children around the tower. Occasionally, he would even stop by the kitchen and help cook, but they were less receptive to a teenage boy helping out.

Everything became routine. Nothing new happened except for the occasional baby or child being sent to a foster family. Typically, it was the younger ones, though, and each passing day left Peter feeling more and more like nothing was ever going to change for him, and part of him hoped that he could stay at Stark Tower until he was eighteen. It was better than being separated from Michelle. He didn’t want to lose her, too. 

He preferred the routine. It was better than more change. 

This was why, when he opened the door to Bea and Margaret’s room right after breakfast, fully prepared to spend the day helping them with the babies, he found himself staring wide-eyed at the scene in front of him.

There were four babies in high chairs in the middle of eating cheerios, which lay spread out on the trays in front of them. One of those babies was screaming and throwing the food around the room. Three other babies were in their cribs, with only one of them calm, and the other two crying. Bea was frantically changing a diaper, but if the smell in the room said anything, there were several other babies in need of a diaper change.

Margaret wasn’t there.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” Bea sighed in relief as she caught sight of him, “Margaret’s sick. She had to go home. Ms. Potts is trying to find someone to come fill in for her, but so far, we haven’t had any luck. Can you let Noah out of the highchair and feed Chloe? Victoria needs her diaper changed, too, and Quinton… I don’t know what Quinton needs.”

Peter forced himself out of his surprise and jumped into action.

In the past few weeks, he had become pretty good at taking care of the babies. He quickly made a beeline to the high chairs and freed the screaming child, before placing Chloe into it. She clapped her hands as he poured some cheerios onto the tray. Victoria, however, screeched as he picked her up and kicked wildly.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay,” he said. He grabbed a rattle and shook it in front of her face, trying to keep her calm, but it didn’t seem to work. If anything, it made her scream louder.

Sometimes, Peter enjoyed helping out. Other times, like when he had a squirming, screaming baby, he would much rather be in school listening to a droning algebra lecture.

It wasn’t until forty-five minutes later, with Peter having just gotten a few of the babies to sleep, that there was a knock at the door. 

“Come in,” Bea called from where she was bouncing Chloe, even as the knock woke up Noah and made him start to scream once again.

Peter was on the floor with a few of the babies, trying to keep them entertained, so he arched his neck to see who it was.

“Uh, hello. Pepper said something about you guys needing some help… and she also said something about how I needed to learn to change a diaper so… here I am.”

Peter dropped the rattle that he was holding. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped at the man in the doorway.

Tony Stark was dressed in an expensive suit and sunglasses. He was skinnier and less muscular than Peter remembered, though he dimly remembered hearing something about the man being stuck in space for twenty days, so he figured that made sense. The signature smirk and confidence were gone, as well, replaced with a pensiveness about him.

“You’re Tony Stark.”

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. Meeting Pepper Potts had been one thing, as she was CEO of Stark Industries, but this was Iron Man standing right in front of him. His childhood hero was in the same room as him!

“I am,” the man said, an amused tint to his voice. He stepped into the room and pulled his sunglasses off, eyes flickering from Peter to Bea to the babies around the room.

Bea seemed to snap out of it. 

“Oh, yes. Yes, Margaret couldn’t come in today. Peter’s been helping out, but it’s been kind of crazy. Chloe here is in need of a diaper change, actually,” she said, holding the girl up and handing her over to the billionaire.

Mr. Stark held the baby a foot away from him, staring at the baby with what looked like fear in his eyes.

“Peter, how about you help him?” Bea suggested, a mischievous smirk on her face.

Peter’s mouth snapped shut. He sent a panicked look towards the woman, but she simply nodded her head.

“O-okay,” he whispered, eyes wide. He pushed himself to his feet despite Mateo’s whine and carefully made his way to Tony Stark.

“Uh, so… Chloe likes to fight you when you change her diaper,” he said, voice shaking. He cleared his throat and tried to sound more confident in front of  _ the  _ Tony Stark, “So you need to distract her. Uh, she likes rattles.”

He fished a rattle off of the ground and handed it to the girl. She squealed and squirmed in Mr. Stark’s hands. The man’s eyes widened even more.

“Oh… okay,” Mr. Stark said, gently laying Chloe on the changing table as if she was a bomb.

Peter grabbed her diaper and some wipes and set them on the table. His hands shook slightly. 

He was standing next to Tony Stark.

_ Tony Stark. _

Slowly, he walked the man through it, trying very hard not to freak out and embarrass himself. It was obvious that Mr. Stark was nervous, as he moved very stiffly, and that fact boggled Peter’s mind.

He was Tony Stark. He had fought Thanos! How was he nervous about changing a diaper?

“You’re pretty good at this, kid,” Mr. Stark said once they finished.

Peter flushed bright red.

“Ah, not really. I’ve just… had practice. I help here a lot because… ah, because I like to help,” he stammered out, “Y-you get used to it. I was really… uh… really bad at first.”

Mr. Stark arched an eyebrow at him silently.

“By the way, I’m Peter,” he said, “Peter Parker.”

“Peter Parker,” Mr. Stark repeated with a nod, and Peter tried to push away the childish excitement that grew when Tony Stark said his name, “Well, Peter Parker the Baby Expert, what now?”

Peter flushed again. "Peter the Baby Expert" was definitely not what he had ever imagined being known as to Tony Stark. In his wildest dreams, Mr. Stark knew him as being intelligent and let him work in his labs. Being a babysitter was never part of it.

He supposed, however, that it was better than not being known by him at all.

_ Tony Stark _ knew his name.

"Uh, well, this morning was kind of crazy with Margaret being out, so they kind of got off schedule, but uh…” he trailed off and quickly walked over to the StarkPad, picking it up, “We use this app to kind of keep up with everything, so…” he swiped up and showed the man the schedule, “You can see here that music time is coming up, but also that Emmett needs to eat soon.”

Mr. Stark took the StarkPad from him, nodding lightly as he swiped around a bit, exploring. Peter stood off to the side, shifting his weight from foot to foot. The app was pretty simple to use, even if Margaret got confused about it quite a bit, so he had no doubt that Tony Stark would be able to work it.

“What’s this?” Mr. Stark asked, turning the Stark Pad so that Peter could see what he had pulled up.

Peter grinned at the notification that he had pulled up.

“That tells us if a baby is getting a foster family soon. There you can see that Chloe has a foster mother coming to pick her up tomorrow. Foster families are starting to pop up a lot now that things are beginning to settle down.”

Mr. Stark hummed softly in acknowledgement. His eyebrows furrowed and he glanced up from the StarkPad to Peter.

“What about you?” he asked, and Peter’s grin fell, “Are you going to be leaving soon, too?”

Peter swallowed and looked away. His hands fell to his side. He shook his head.

“No, probably not,” he answered, “At least, I haven’t gotten any information about it. Most people want babies, not fourteen-year-olds. It’s a lot easier to find families for them than me.”

Peter wasn’t even sure if he wanted a foster family. He was lonely at Stark Tower, sure, but he was tired of things changing, and he didn’t even want to think about entering another family. He could handle Stark Tower, where it was easy to pretend like he was just away from home. Living with a family, though, would make it a lot harder for him to avoid thoughts of May and Ben.

Of course, he wasn’t about to tell Tony Stark that.

An odd expression appeared across Mr. Stark’s face.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said.

Peter’s eyes widened at that. He opened his mouth to ask the man what he meant, but Mr. Stark continued talking before he could

“Alright! A baby needed some food, right? What does he like? Steak?”

“Steak?” Peter sputtered out, a surprised laugh leaving his lips.

“I’m joking!” Mr. Stark smirked. He stepped back and glanced around the room, looking both confident and lost at the same time in a weird mix of emotions that Peter wasn’t familiar with, “Seriously, though, what do babies eat?”

* * *

“MJ, you’ll never believe what happened to me today.”

Michelle glanced up as he entered the library. She was curled up on one of the chairs and reading  _ Jane Eyre _ , but she set the book down when she saw him. She didn’t say anything, but she raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

Peter plopped down next to her, practically vibrating with excitement. 

“Margaret was sick. Guess who stepped in to help,” he said with a wide grin. He leaned in when she didn’t answer, “ _ THE _ Tony Stark.”

The only sign that she was listening was a slight twitch to her lips.

“Uh huh,” she said.

“I mean, I knew that he was alive. I saw it on the news the other day. And… well, yeah, we’re in Stark Tower… but I didn’t expect to actually  _ meet  _ him,” he exclaimed, “And I taught him how to change a diaper. MJ,  _ I taught Tony Stark how to change a diaper!” _

There was a smirk across Michelle’s face. She leaned back in her chair.

“Well, that’s definitely a story to tell. Sounds like you had an eventful day.”

“It was  _ Tony Stark _ .”

“So you said,” she responded, “I didn’t realize you were such a fanboy.”

Peter scoffed and rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t keep the grin off of his face.

“You can’t tell me you wouldn’t freak out if you got to spend the day with Iron Man.”

“Stark is lame,” she said with a shrug, before pushing herself to her feet, “I’m perfectly fine not spending time with a billionaire, but I’m glad you had your fun. Now, onto more important news. I heard there’s a new kid.”

Peter was cut off from his disbelief that Michelle didn’t care about Tony Stark by her words. He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“A new kid?” he asked, “Why would there be a new kid?”

In the several weeks that Peter had been there, there hadn’t been any new kids. Some of the kids had left, but no one had been brought in.

“Don’t ask me,” she said, “How about we find out from him?”

* * *

It didn’t take long to track the kid down. When Peter and MJ stepped out of the library and wandered through the common room, it was very easy to figure it out. The majority of the kids were talking about it, whispering about the new kid and pointing at the nearby miniature lab that had been set up. 

“I don’t know about this,” Peter said nervously, “Maybe we shouldn’t bother him. Is it rude to ask him? What if something happened that he doesn’t want to talk about? Maybe we should just leave him alone.”

Michelle rolled her eyes and opened the door.

The lab was empty save for one teenage boy who looked to be about Peter’s age, maybe a little older. He was tall with dark hair and pale skin, and his attention was fixed on a small robot in front of him. He was tinkering with some wires that were exposed in the robot’s back.

“Whoa.”

Peter snapped his mouth closed, not having meant to say anything, but it got the boy’s attention. He looked up sharply and smirked.

“Looking for something?” the boy asked.

Peter’s nervousness was all but forgotten as he bounced forward, eyes glued to the project in the boy’s hand. He stopped next to the boy.

“Did you build that?”

“Yep,” the boy said. He held the robot up. It was definitely not a completed project, but with the limited amount of resources that the kids had been given, it was impressive.

“That’s so cool!” Peter exclaimed, eyes wide, “I’ve tinkered around in here a little bit, but I’m more of a biochem guy, and there really wasn’t much in here that I could work with. How long did that take you?”

“Not too long,” he answered, a proud smirk etched onto his face, “I wanted to make something to prove to The Mechanic that I need access to  _ his  _ labs.”

It took Peter a moment to even begin to piece together what that meant.

“The Mechanic?” he asked, “Wait, are you talking about-”

“Tony Stark,” the boy said. He set the robot down and held out his hand, “I’m Harley Keener. I moved in with Tony a few weeks back. He’s more overprotective than I thought he would be. Keeps insisting I could get hurt in his labs. He has such little faith in me.”

“Oh no,” Michelle groaned.

Peter jumped. In his excitement, he had completely forgotten that he had come in here with her.

“I can’t deal with all of this Tony Stark talk,” she continued, “Not from someone else. It was bad enough with Peter.”

Peter grinned. He glanced back at Harley.

“I taught Tony Stark to change a diaper.”

Harley grinned. He set the robot down and turned to Peter.

“Please tell me you have a picture of that.”

“Well, no,” Peter responded, “But I did! Do you really  _ live  _ with Tony Stark?”

“Yep. He even made pancakes this morning.”

“Okay, I’m going to leave you two losers to ramble about billionaire superheroes,” Michelle rolled her eyes, backing up slowly.

“I’ll talk to you later, MJ,” Peter said, watching as she slipped out of the room. Once the door was closed, he turned back to Harley, “I need you to tell me everything.”

* * *

It was only a few days later that Peter got called up to Pepper Pott’s office. It was close to curfew, and he had convinced Michelle to play a board game with him and Harley, who had ended up coming down to the common area quite a bit, claiming to be bored in the penthouse. 

(Peter wasn’t sure how anyone could be bored living with Tony Stark.)

“Good luck with the principal,” Harley said with a smirk as Peter stood up from the table, patting him on the back. 

There was an odd look on Michelle’s face, but she simply nodded at him.

“Good luck,” she said, voice quiet.

There weren’t many reasons why Peter could be called to her office, after all.

Peter swallowed. His heart was pounding against his chest. He nodded jerkily and made a beeline to the elevator, hearing a few of the others clap as he walked.

“Hello, Peter,” FRIDAY said as he stepped into the elevator, “Ms. Potts is waiting for you in her office. I believe she has some good news.”

“Oh?” Peter choked out. His hands shook and he stuffed them in his pockets. 

Good news. That could only really mean one thing.

The elevator began to move. Peter closed his eyes. His insides squirmed with anxiety. He knew that whatever he was about to find out meant one thing.

He was going to be leaving Michelle. 

Ms. Potts was in her office when he entered. So was Tony Stark.

“Ah, Peter the Baby Expert,” Mr. Stark said with a wide smile as Peter froze at the doorway, “And also apparently Harley’s new best friend.”

“Uh,” Peter blinked, “H-hello, Mr. Stark. Ms. Potts.”

“Come on in, Peter,” Ms. Potts said, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk. She was smiling as well, and Peter was pretty sure that this was the first time he had seen her with a genuine smile since he had first met her at Midtown. She had one hand on her stomach, where a small baby bump was beginning to show, “Tony and Harley have both been telling me about you. It’s going to be weird having you gone.”

Peter swallowed. Her words confirmed his suspicions. He slowly walked in and sat in the chair, placing his hands in his lap. 

“Well, Tony insisted that he help with your case,” Ms. Potts said, “He said he wanted to find the perfect family for you. Now, as I’m sure you know, it’s harder to place older kids, so it took a bit of digging, a bit of calling around, but I think we found a good family for you.”

Peter jumped in surprise as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“I  _ know  _ we found the perfect family,” Mr. Stark corrected, smirking at him,“Okay, well maybe perfect is a little dramatic. It would be better if you could be placed in a smaller family, I think, but at this point, all of the good foster families already have a lot of kids placed with them.”

Ms. Potts let out a light hum and arched an eyebrow at Mr. Stark. He grinned and fell silent.

“Anyway, this man was already a foster father before the Snap. He actually had a boy about your age who disappeared, so he is experienced dealing with teenagers. He lives close to your school, too, so you won’t have to worry about changing schools. He’s got a good job, so money isn’t going to be a problem. The other kids all love him, too, and his neighbors are all praising him as Father of the Year.”

He licked his lips and finally found it in him to speak up.

“W-what about MJ?”

The smile on Ms. Potts face fell slightly. Peter felt Mr. Stark squeeze his shoulder.

“Well, we’re doing the best we can to find homes for everyone,” Ms. Potts said, “But, you have to understand that it’s difficult. Even with Natasha - er, Black Widow - working in Washington D.C. to help the snap orphans out, it’s still difficult. There are a lot of kids who need homes, and not a lot of homes who can take them. We’re working on it, though.”

“Besides,” Mr. Stark spoke up, “Schools are going to be opening back up soon. You’ll still be able to spend time with your girlfriend.”

Peter flushed.

“S-she’s not my girlfriend,” he said quickly, “She’s just a friend.”

“Sure, kid,” Mr. Stark said, “You’ll still be able to spend time with her, either way.”

Peter licked his lips and swallowed. He wanted to refuse. He wanted to stay at Stark Tower until Michelle found a home to go to. He wanted to tell them to send another boy to that home and leave him be, maybe until they could find somewhere that Peter and Michelle could stay together.

He had lost too many people. He didn’t want to lose her too.

Despite that, he knew that he couldn’t refuse.  _ Tony Stark _ himself had picked this home for him specifically. He could just imagine the disapproval on May and Ben’s face if he refused. He should be grateful.

So, instead, he simply nodded.

“Okay,” he whispered, “That… that sounds nice.”

Ms. Potts smiled warmly. She reached over the desk and grabbed his hand, squeezing it.

“I’m glad. Mr. Skip Westcott will be here to pick you up on Friday,” she said, “I’m sure you’ll love it there.”

Peter wasn’t so sure, but he forced himself to smile anyway. 

“Yeah,” he answered, “I’m sure I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I know I said that this chapter would have Harley, but it has Tony as well! (Also, don't worry. They're both going to be back, though they won't be in the next chapter).  
>   
> Sorry this chapter took so long. I got a nasty cold and wasn't able to write very much. A lot of this chapter was written in bits and pieces, too, so sorry if it feels all over the place.  
>   
> Also, now is a good time to remind you guys to HEED THE TAGS! Things are about to start going south for Peter, and I have tagged this story accordingly for any triggers. If sexual abuse of a minor triggers you, proceed with caution.  
>   
> Thank you guys so much for the response to this story! I love reading your comments! Let me know what you guys think of this chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: HEED THE TAGS. Nothing too graphic happens on-screen, but there is sexual abuse and manipulation of a minor in this story, so please read with that in mind. If this is triggering, don't read the last scene of the chapter.

The next few days that passed after Peter was given the news that he was going to be moving in with a foster family were fairly uneventful. He didn’t have much to pack, and besides spending his mornings listening to Margaret and Bea ramble about how happy they were for him and spending his evenings practically glued to Michelle’s side, not much changed. 

He still spent most of his mornings and afternoons helping out around the tower, and he spent most of his evenings in the common area. He ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner in the cafeteria with Michelle, and occasionally he hung out with Harley. It was harder to hang out with Harley, though, because while he had more in common with him than Michelle, Harley wanted to talk about Peter’s upcoming departure, and Michelle tended to avoid it. 

Peter preferred to avoid it as well.

Which is why, when the day came that Peter would be picked up by Skip Westcott, he spent his time waiting for FRIDAY to alert him to go to Ms. Pott’s office in the library, curled up on one of the chairs and rambling about Star Wars to Michelle. 

He cut off the moment he heard FRIDAY’s voice, though.

“Peter, Pepper Potts is requesting your presence in her office,” the voice cut through the library, “She also requests that you bring your bags.”

Next to him, Michelle sucked in a breath. Her pencil stilled on the page in front of her. 

“Well,” she whispered, “That’s your cue.”

He closed his eyes and slowly pushed himself to his feet. His hands shook and he stuffed them in his pockets, mustering up a smile for Michelle.

“Yeah, that it is,” he said. He licked his lips and opened his mouth before closing it, unsure of what to say. Finally, he forced out, “I’m going to miss you.”

She smirked softly and tilted her head. Her eyes seemed to glimmer. 

“I’m going to miss you too,” she responded, before adding, almost as an afterthought, “Nerd.”

He found himself grinning, but his eyes burned with unshed tears. 

He really didn’t want to leave Michelle. He had leaned on her for the past month, had grown close to her. She had been the one constant in his world, because even though his phone was out of service, and he couldn’t contact Ned, she was still there.

Now, that one constant was going to be gone.

He would have no way of contacting her to know if she got a home until school started back.

He hesitated before he reached forward and wrapped his arms around her.

She was stiff at first, unsure, but right before he pulled away, embarrassed, he felt her arms wrap around his back and squeeze.

“See you at school,” she said, her voice soft against his ear, “And… hold on.”

She pulled away from him and reached down to her notebook. He watched as she flicked through a few pages before settling on one that she hadn’t shown him before. She paused for a moment, staring at it with something akin to nervousness in her eyes, before she carefully ripped it out and handed it to him. 

It was a drawing of him, but it wasn’t one of her usual recreations of a scene that she was looking at. Instead, the drawing showed him as Iron Man, holding up a gauntlet as if he was about to shoot off the page. 

“I figured you would like this,” she said as she avoided his eyes, “I know how much you like Iron Man.”

He grinned and let his eyes scan the picture in front of him, taking in every detail that she had added.

“It’s amazing,” he told her, “I love it.”

She smiled one of those rare smiles that Peter had only caught a handful of times, one that lit up her face and sent butterflies filling his stomach and-

Oh.

The sudden realization hit him like a train. His eyes widened and he had to restrain himself from backing up in surprise. 

He  _ liked  _ Michelle. 

When did that happen?

He blushed furiously and ignored Michelle’s arched eyebrow that he sent him. Instead, he glanced at the door.

“I-uh- I better get going,” he stuttered out, “I’ll see you at school.”

“Yeah,” she said softly, “See you at school.”

* * *

Skip Westcott was a man in his mid-thirties, with hair so blond it looked almost white. He was tall with broad shoulders and a thick New York accent. 

“I’m Steven,” he said as he held his hand out towards Peter with a wide smile, “But everyone calls me Skip.”

A shiver ran down his spine, but he shook the man’s hand anyway. He averted his eyes from the man’s steely blue.

“I’m Peter,” he responded softly.

He had met the man outside of Stark Tower, due to security measures that prevented the man from coming inside. Ms. Potts had led him out, though, and he found his eyes trailing over to where she was standing, wanting nothing more than to beg her to let him stay. 

He didn’t know this man. At least when he was sent to Stark Tower, he had Michelle. He was alone now.

“Well, I wish I could give you time to say your goodbyes,” Skip said, his voice full of cheer and warmth that only felt a little forced, “but I’ve got some kids at home with my neighbor watching them, and if I leave them too long, either Christopher and Summer will kill each other or Zoe will burn the house down.”

Right. Ms. Potts and Mr. Stark had said that Skip had taken in other children. In the midst of everything, he had completely forgotten about that.

“That’s okay,” he responded, reminding himself to be grateful. After all, this man was taking him and other kids in, which was something that not enough people were doing around the world. It wasn’t his fault that Peter had formed an attachment to Michelle, “I already said goodbye.”

“Perfect!” Skip said. He leaned down and lifted Peter’s suitcase, swinging it into the back of the van, “Why don’t you hop on in then, Einstein? I want to get to know you.”

* * *

Ms. Potts and Mr. Stark had not been exaggerating when they said that Skip lived close to Midtown. They passed by the school barely two minutes before arriving, so Peter knew that he could easily walk to and from school without any problem. He supposed that was a plus about the whole situation. It was definitely better than the awkward conversation during the car ride, where Skip had asked him practically every question under the sun.

They pulled up in front of the house, and Peter found himself staring at what was supposed to become his home.

It was a decent size for the location: a two story brick house surrounded by a white picket fence and a pristine lawn. Contrary to what Skip had said earlier, the house was not on fire. In fact, it looked perfect. Not a single thing was out of place. 

For a house that supposedly housed several children, Skip was doing a good job at maintaining it, apparently.

As he stepped out of the car, the front door flung open, and a toddler came racing towards them.

“Skippy!” the boy squealed. He leaped into Skip’s arms, and the man grinned, heaving him into his arms, “Chris is in trouble.”

“Oh boy. What did he do?”

“He yelled at Mrs. Smith,” the boy said, nodding solemnly. Before Skip could say anything else, the boy turned to look at Peter. His face lit up suddenly and he started squirming in Skip’s arms, “New brother!”

Skip set the boy down and he raced towards Peter, latching onto his legs. Peter blinked, staring down at him with surprise, unsure of how to approach the situation.

“Hello,” he said carefully.

“This is Logan,” Skip said, a warm smile on his face, “He’s-”

“No! Me!” the boy shouted before looking up at Peter with wide eyes, “I’m Logan. I’m three!”

Logan was small with big brown eyes and a head full of short, dark curls. He grinned up at Peter with chubby cheeks, dressed in a Falcon t-shirt that was definitely not warm enough for him to be running around outside.

He looked like he could have been Michelle’s little brother, and Peter firmly pushed that thought away. He didn’t want to think about Michelle right now. He was already missing her.

“I’m Peter,” he said to the boy, forcing himself to smile.

“How old are you?” Logan asked, “You’re… higher than Asher. He’s twelve!”

“Taller,” Skip corrected. He caught Peter’s eye and pointed towards the house discreetly. Peter nodded and slowly began to walk forward, making sure he wasn’t dragging Logan.

“I’m fourteen,” he told the boy, stifling a laugh as he gasped.

“Fourteen?” he repeated, “You’re old!”

Peter couldn’t hide the laugh now. 

“I am, aren’t I?”

Logan nodded.. He grabbed Peter’s hand and dragged him to the house quicker.

They were met at the door by a frazzled elderly lady. She visibly relaxed when she saw Logan. 

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Westcott. He just ran out!” she exclaimed, “I tried to stop him!”

“That’s alright, Mrs. Smith. Did you send Christopher to his room?”

“Yes, he’s in his room. Asher and the girls are playing in the backyard,” she answered. Her blue eyes trailed behind Skip to where Peter was standing awkwardly, Logan still clutching his hand, “Oh! You must be Peter! It’s a pleasure to meet you, son. I’m Mrs. Smith. I live next door, so if you ever need anything, feel free to come by.”

Peter blinked owlishly but nodded in acceptance. 

“Thank you for watching them, Mrs. Smith. Now, I’m going to show Peter to his room and then have a talk with Asher. Call me if you need anything.”

With a few parting words, Mrs. Smith went on her way. Peter waved goodbye awkwardly.

“Okay! Logan, how about you go play outside?” Skip said, ushering the small child towards the back door. Once the boy was gone, he gestured for Peter to follow him.

He followed Skip passed the living room and down a small hallway. His attention snagged on a picture in the hall, one that showed Skip and a woman standing with two boys, one around Peter’s age and the other a little younger, around nine or ten. He noticed, vaguely, the tense expression on the older boy’s face as he stood in front of Skip, while the younger one was all smiles.

Skip noticed him looking.

“That’s my wife,” he said with a forlorn smile, gesturing to the woman who stood beside him, “She snapped, along with Brennan, the older boy. We’ve had Brennan and Christopher for two years,” he frowned, and Peter knew that he wasn’t the only one who had caught the use of present tense. The man shook his head, “Christopher hasn’t taken it well. With the loss of his foster mother and older brother, as well as my taking in other kids, it’s… hit him hard. He’s angry. Don’t be offended if he doesn’t react well to you at first.”

Before Peter could react to what he said, he swung open a nearby door. Peter stepped into a tiny bedroom, just big enough to fit a twin-size bed and a dresser. 

“I know it’s small, but I’m a firm believer that teenagers should have their own space. Figured you would prefer not to bunk with the boys. Christopher complains enough that Logan never lets him sleep,” Skip said with a smile, “We were using this place as storage, but I moved everything to the attic so that you could have this room. You can decorate it however you like.”

Peter nodded and shifted his weight on his feet, unsure of how to respond. He blinked, feeling overwhelmed.

“Thank you,” he said when no other words felt right.

Skip just smiled and clapped Peter on the back.

“Well, I’ll let you unpack and get settled while I go talk to Christopher,” he said, “the kids are outside if you want to meet them.”

Peter nodded and set his suitcase on the bed, watching as the man left the room and shut the door.

This was weird. Nothing could have prepared him for entering someone else’s home. Stark Tower wasn’t a home. At least, not where the beds had been set up. Everyone there was in the same position as him.

Here, though… here he was walking into a home. It felt invasive. It felt… wrong.

He didn’t belong.

* * *

After he unpacked, he did as Skip had suggested and found his way out into the backyard.

It was a spacious yard surrounded by a wooden privacy fence. A large oak tree was in the middle of it with a tire swing attached, and a young girl with straight, dark hair and a large jacket was swinging on it. Two kids, a boy and a girl who looked a couple of years younger than him, were jumping on the trampoline. Another girl with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail was kicking a soccer ball against the fence, and Logan was running around with a toy plane.

Well, he was definitely the oldest.

The moment he stepped out into the backyard, Logan came running over to him, holding the toy plane in the air and making engine noises as he ran around him. 

The others turned to him, too. Peter waved awkwardly, unsure. Maybe he should have just stayed in his room. He had a book that MJ had loaned him. He could have read that. That would be much better than this.

Logan grabbed his hand suddenly and began pulling him towards the other kids with as much strength as a three-year-old could manage.

“This is Peter!” he exclaimed cheerfully, “New brother!”

The girl on the tire swing hopped off and looked Peter up and down. She tilted her head at him, as if judging him, and then her hands began to move in front of her in a way that made Peter blink in surprise.

The girl from the trampoline spoke up.

“She asked if you’re the new kid that is going to be staying in the storage room.”

Oh. That was sign language. 

“Uh, yeah,” he answered, “That’s me.”

The girl on the trampoline nodded and climbed off. She walked towards Peter and held out her hand.

“I’m Summer,” she said, her chin squared confidently, “That’s my little sister, Violet. She’s deaf, so either learn sign language or find me if you want to talk to her.”

It was said abruptly, with no room for argument, and Peter was perfectly fine with that. 

Before he had time to react, a soccer ball was flying straight towards him. He saw it out of the corner of his eye, jumped, and threw his hands up in front of him. It hit him in the legs. The third girl that was outside giggled.

“Zoe!” Summer yelled, turning to the third girl in the yard, “I told you to stop doing that!”

“You’re not my mom!”

“I’m the oldest!”

Zoe’s eyes lit up, flicking over to Peter. She grinned.

“Not anymore!”

That couldn’t be good. Peter really wasn’t in the mood to get caught up in an argument among children. He could see from the sour look spreading on Summer’s face that she wasn’t very happy about this new information. He really didn’t want to get involved.

“Uh oh,” Logan whispered, looking up at Peter with wide eyes, “They’re going to fight again.”

He stepped back as Summer began shouting, unsure if he should step in or if it was even in his place to. He felt incredibly lost.

“Welcome home,” the other boy said. Peter fished for his name, and remembered Mrs.Smith mentioning a boy named Asher. 

Welcome home, indeed.

* * *

He met Christopher later in the day when Skip called them all for dinner. Logan, who had practically latched onto Peter, dragged him to the dining room and insisted that he sit next to him. Christopher came sulking in right after them, sinking into the seat in front of Peter and glaring at the plate in front of him.

The boy looked very similar to the picture on the wall: short with pale skin, dark hair, blue eyes, and an upturned nose. He was around ten or eleven. Peter wondered how long he had been living with Skip.

Losing your brother and foster mother and then having six other kids move in was probably rough for a ten-year-old.

“Hello,” he said in an effort to cheer the boy up, “I’m Peter.”

The glare that was aimed at him took him off guard. 

“You aren’t going to replace Brennan,” he hissed, eyes narrowed. 

Peter blinked in surprise, pulling back suddenly. 

“I-I wasn’t-”

“Oh, shove off, Chris,” Summer said as she slid into the seat beside him, “Would it kill you to be nice to the new kids?”

“Stay out of it, Summer.”

“You don’t have to be a jerk.”

“You don’t have to be so bossy.”

“Christopher! Summer!” Skip chastised as he entered the dining room with Zoe running in behind him, still clutching the soccer ball, “What have I said about fighting at the dinner table?”

Violet signed something to Summer, who, despite her annoyance at Christopher, smirked.

“What did she say?” Zoe asked. She slid into her seat beside Violet with a curious expression.

“None of your business,” Summer snapped.

Zoe frowned, and Peter felt her kick him in the shins in an attempt to get Summer. He grimaced and backed his seat up slightly.

“Hey!” Summer protested. She reached across the table towards Zoe, but the girl backed up, and Summer’s arm smacked against Asher’s drink, causing it to spill onto the book that the boy had brought to the table.

Asher gave a shout and pulled his book off the table. He grabbed a paper towel and began frantically dabbing at the book in an effort to salvage it.

“Look what you did!” Zoe cried out, “You messed up his book!”

“You kicked me!”

“Because you were mean!”

“Girls!” Skip’s voice was loud, speaking over the fighting, “Stop fighting!”

“Who’s causing problems now?” Christopher muttered under his breath to Summer, just loud enough for Peter to hear, but the yelp that he let out when Summer kicked him was heard by everyone.

This was going to be interesting.

* * *

He slipped into his bedroom as early as possible, feeling shaky and overwhelmed. He laid in bed, pulled out the photo that MJ had drawn for him, and wished to go back to Stark Tower. 

There was only a week before school started back, but it felt like an eternity away. 

He missed Ned. He missed MJ. He missed May and Ben. 

At Stark Tower, he had Michelle. Here, he had nobody.

He was alone.

* * *

The weekend passed by unbearably slow. Peter wasn’t entirely sure where he fit in with the family, or if he did at all. Christopher glared at him whenever he entered a room, and Summer, though she didn’t say it outright, obviously held a little bit of resentment that she was no longer the oldest. The others didn’t talk to Peter much at all, except for little Logan who seemed to talk to everybody.

Skip was nice, at least. He could get stern with the kids, but for the most part he seemed to be a very kind man. Despite everything, he was already planning on getting Zoe into soccer when things began to start up again, and he promised Summer to let her continue her dance classes and Violet with her gymnastics classes. Peter wasn’t sure exactly how the man was planning on upholding all of that, but he respected him for doing so.

Ms. Potts and Mr. Stark had been right. He really was Father of the Year.

Despite all of the man’s efforts, though, Peter still wasn’t fitting in.

Which was why Monday morning found him sneaking off back to his bedroom after breakfast and fishing out the book that Michelle had loaned him. He had never been a big reader, tending to prefer to stick to science rather than literature, but boredom and a desperation to be alone had led to him pulling it out.

He wasn’t even halfway through the chapter, however, when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

Skip peeked into the room. He smiled at him.

“Hey, I just got a call from social services. They’ve got a little girl that they’re asking if I can take. I’ve got an extra bed in the girls’ room,, so I’m going to pick her up. Can you watch the kids?”

Peter’s eyes widened.

“Another kid?” he asked before he could help himself.

Skip laughed and nodded.

“Yeah. Unfortunately, there aren’t many people who were already foster parents before this happened and are still around. They’ve got to put these kids somewhere, so people like me are getting calls left and right. This is the last one that I’ll have room for, though.”

There were already seven kids, including Peter in the house. He really didn’t want to think of the chaos an eighth kid could bring. 

But… Skip was right. There were a lot of kids without families to go to. Those who could needed to take up the responsibility. Previous laws about how many kids could be in the house at one time had been temporarily eradicated while they tried to deal with the fallout of the Snap. Peter was just going to have to deal with it.

“Okay,” he said, setting his book down with a frown, “But I’m not sure how well they’ll listen to me.”

“Just make sure they don’t kill each other,” Skip said, “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

* * *

It became quickly obvious to Peter that he had a lot to learn if he ever wanted to be a parent one day.

Skip was only gone for a little over an hour, but in that time, Peter struggled to keep Summer and Christopher from attacking each other over the remote, Zoe from kicking her soccer ball in the house and breaking things, Violet from scaling the house outside, and Logan from trying to eat old popcorn that he found underneath the couch. The only child that Peter found was easy to keep from breaking something or killing himself or others was Asher, who sat in the chair and read a book while the others dissolved into chaos around him.

He had only finally gotten them all calmed down when Skip opened the door, and the only way he had been able to do so was to turn the tv onto a movie and have them all crowd around the couch. 

Summer, Violet, Christopher, and Zoe had squeezed onto the couch, with Asher sitting on the floor in front of the couch and Logan sitting in Peter’s lap. They were in the opening of Tangled, and the kids were silent for the first time since Skip had left. They looked almost innocent, curled up next to each other to watch the movie. 

Of course, the moment the door opened, they all jumped up to greet him. Logan went flying towards Skip, leaping into the air so that the man could catch him.

From behind Skip’s legs, a small five-year-old girl with dark, curly hair peaked out. She was dressed in a frilly pink dress. There was a hesitant expression in her dark eyes which were wide as they flicked from each of them. 

Christopher stood up, scowled at the girl, and stormed off.

“Christopher,” Skip said, but the boy had already stormed off. The man shook his head and turned to them, “Well, this is Marianna. Marianna, do you like Tangled?”

The girl nodded silently, biting her lip. Her fingers were latched onto Skip’s shirt, but the man gently pried them off and ushered her forward.

She slowly walked forward, but Peter saw her lips tremble. Before she even made it to the couch, she burst into tears.

“I want Mam í and Pap í ,” she cried. She wrapped her arms around herself and turned from them, little shoulders shaking, “I want to go home! Take me home!”

Skip quickly shooed them out of the room. Peter picked up Logan, who had clutched himself to Skip, and ushered the kids into the backyard.

* * *

Peter didn’t see Marianna for the rest of the day. When they returned back inside, the girl had apparently hidden herself underneath one of the girl’s beds and refused to come out. Skip decided to let her stay there until she felt safe enough.

So that is where she stayed until night came, and Skip informed him in passing that she had finally climbed into her bed.

Around midnight, he was awoken by a heart-wrenching scream.

He darted up in bed, wrenched from his dreams. Before his mind could fully comprehend it, he had pushed himself to his feet and flew out of his room and up the stairs. His mind was a blur of panic as he threw the girls’ door open, tracing the sound to it.

Like Peter’s own, the girls’ room was fairly bare of decorations, but it had the essentials. Two bunk beds were pressed opposite walls, and two dressers were shoved onto another wall. It felt cramped, but there were dozens of toys littering the floor that made it feel rather lived in.

Summer and Zoe were both standing in front of Marianna, who was curled up in a ball and with her hands across her face. She was screaming into her hands as if someone was killing her, shaking her head back and forth. 

“She’s having a nightmare,” Summer said, eyes flicking up to Peter with worry, “What do we do?”

Peter blinked. How was  _ he  _ supposed to know?

They were looking at him, though, and he could see tears in Zoe’s eyes. He swallowed and took a step forward.

“Step back,” he said, trying to keep his voice soft and steady, but it still shook lightly. The girls did as he said, and he moved forward, slowly kneeling next to her bed. 

Marianna let out another scream.

“Mam í!” she screamed, suddenly starting to thrash in her bed. Her hand flew out, nearly socking him in the eye. He gently took her wrists and held them.

“Marianna, wake up. You’re having a nightmare,” he said in a trembling voice, “You’re okay. Wake up.”

She didn’t immediately. She struggled in his arms and cried out, eyes squeezed shut and her entire body trembling. However, after a few moments of coaxing, with Peter repeating over and over again in his mind to stay calm, she opened her eyes with a gasp.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said, “You’re okay. It was just a nightmare. You’re at Skip’s house, remember?”

His chest felt tight, but with asthma or worry he wasn’t sure. He swallowed and gently let go of her wrists now that she wasn’t about to hurt herself or him.

She stared up at Peter with wide, tear-filled eyes, shoulders shaking with sobs, and then suddenly threw herself at him. He felt little arms wrap around his shoulders as she buried her face into his shoulder, her entire body trembling. Gut-wrenching sobs left her lips, and he felt his shirt get wet with her tears.

He rubbed her back, thinking back to how his Aunt May would comfort him after nightmares when his parents died. He could remember how she would hold him while he cried, reassuring him that she was there, and Ben was there, and they weren’t going anywhere.

They had left, though. Just like Marianna’s family.

Summer sat down next to him. She bit her lip, looking unsure. Peter had only known her for a few days, but he had never seen her look anything other than confident. She leaned in and leaned her head against his other shoulder. 

Zoe joined in, arms wrapping around both Peter and Marianna, and he felt Violet slip in beside them as well. He could feel them shaking, and he was struck, suddenly by just how much these kids were suffering. 

Like him, they had lost their families, and they were stuck in an unfamiliar house, with an unfamiliar family. 

They were just children. 

His eyes flicked up, and he noticed that Skip was standing at the door, watching them. 

* * *

“You’re good with them, you know,” Skip said. He had followed Peter back to his room after the girls had settled down, and Marianna had finally fallen back to sleep.

Peter sat down on his bed, frowning lightly. He shook his head. 

“Hardly,” he said, “I could barely keep them from killing each other earlier.”

“Don’t take it personally. I can barely do it, too,” the man said with a smile. He sat down next to Peter, and Peter tensed up, “You care about them. I can tell. You understand their pain. They need that.”

He glanced at Skip warily. He was close, closer than Peter was comfortable with. He cleared his throat and shrugged.

“I just want to help.”

“You like to help, don’t you?” Skip said, smiling. His arm wrapped around Peter’s shoulders, and Peter felt constricted. He tried to subtly pull away, not wanting to hurt the man’s feelings, but Skip pulled him back.

“Um, I mean… yeah?”

There was something in Skip’s eyes that Peter didn’t recognize. 

“You know,” Skip said slowly, shaking his head, “Ever since I lost my wife, I’ve been so lonely. I just… I miss her a lot. And you… you love to help. You won’t mind helping me, would you?”

Peter swallowed. His chest felt tight again, and his mouth was dry. He shook his head, confused.

“I… I don’t…”

“Just relax, Peter. This will help me. You want to help, don’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I know that I introduced a lot of child OCs but I wanted to make the home realistic. As Skip was previously a foster parent, something that I knew I wanted to do, he would most likely be having to take in a lot of kids in this situation, as he has training whereas others do not. He also has this whole "Best Father Ever" thing going for him that he is trying to keep up, so I feel like as long as he had room, he wouldn't say no.
> 
> The kids won't be major characters, but they do play an important role in the story at this point in Peter's life. I typically avoid OC's, but they're necessary. Hopefully, they'll be written in a way that is interesting and doesn't fall flat. I tried to give them all distinct enough personalities so that they don't get confusing, so hopefully that worked. 
> 
> Also, I know that the majority of this chapter paints Skip a fairly good person. Keep in mind that Peter has no idea about Skip yet, and he just sees the man that Skip is making everyone see. I'm trying to keep him accurate to the comics, and Skip was friendly to Peter before doing anything, so I wanted to keep that up. 
> 
> Next chapter will have Peter returning to school, which means Ned will finally be returning! Michelle and Harley will also be reappearing. Be ready for that!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There are hints and mentions of sexual abuse of a minor sprinkled throughout the chapter, though nothing happens in this one. Skip is a little booger face, though, so be warned. Please read with caution if this stuff is triggering to you, as it is going to be permeating through the rest of the story, especially the next few chapters.

The morning of the first day of school was… chaotic, to say the least. Peter had grown used to sharing a bathroom, but sharing a bathroom when you had a limited time to get ready was much harder than he expected. It was as he found himself bouncing on the heels of his feet while he waited for Christopher to come out that he realized that he probably should have gotten ready sooner. 

Marianna, Violet, and Zoe had already gotten on the school bus to go to elementary school. The middle school bus would be there in only a few minutes. High school started a little later, so Peter technically had time, but he was hoping to get there earlier.

He wanted to spend some time with Ned and MJ before school started.

He also didn’t want to be with Skip alone. He knew the man wouldn’t do anything with the other kids around, but if they were gone...

“Asher, are you almost out?” he asked through the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Skip in the kitchen, putting a plate of pancakes in front of Logan, and a shiver went up his spine.

_ ‘Father of the Year, right there,’  _ he couldn’t help but think.

The door to the bathroom swung open. Asher didn’t say anything as he walked past, head buried in a book. 

Peter sighed, watching as the boy made his way into the kitchen. Skip looked up when he entered, and Peter felt a flare of panic that had grown common when the man’s eyes fell on the boy. The man simply smiled and offered him a pancake, which the boy took.

Peter slipped into the bathroom. He locked the door and turned to the sink, reaching for his toothbrush and focusing on keeping his breath steady. 

He looked up into the mirror and stared at his face. It had been a week since  _ it  _ had started: the nights interrupted by Skip coming into his room, the helplessness, the inability to stop him, the whispered threats to stay silent ( _ “Where do you think the kids would go? They need me, Peter. There aren’t enough homes. You know that. As long as you stay silent, they stay safe” _ ).

He was pale, paler than usual, and dark circles had already begun to form underneath his eyes. He hoped no one commented on it, because he didn’t have any answers.

At least none that he was willing to tell.

He could hear Skip ushering Summer and Asher out to the bus. He quickly hurried, brushing his teeth, putting on deodorant, and combing his hair. Once he was sure he looked presentable, he took a deep breath and slipped out of the bathroom. 

He grabbed his bookbag and tried to slide out of the house before Skip saw him, but unfortunately the man caught his arm just before he could step out the front door. 

Peter stiffened. He stared at the wall, refusing to look the man in the eyes. 

“You’re going to keep our secret. Aren’t you, Peter?”

He bit his lip and nodded sharply, chest tight.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m not a bad man, Peter,” Skip said, and Peter’s breath caught in his throat. The man was right beside him, whispering into his ear, “I just miss my wife so much. You understand that. Don’t you?”

Peter swallowed. He squeezed his eyes shut and nodded.

“Good boy,” Skip said. His hand travelled down, and Peter felt like he was going to vomit, “It can stay just as us as long as you keep our secret.”

The thought of Skip even looking at the others wrong sent panic down his spine. 

He knew what he had to do. He was the oldest. He had to protect the kids. 

“I understand,” he whispered.

“Good,” Skip said. He let go of him, and Peter practically flew away from him, “Have fun at school.”

Peter had never run out the door so fast.

* * *

Walking onto the courtyard was odd. It felt like forever since he had been at school, and there were quite a few unfamiliar students milling around. Midtown had a waiting list of students who hadn’t quite made the cut to get in, he knew, so he quickly realized that these were students who were taking the place of his classmates who had dusted. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

He had only just reached his locker when Flash approached him. He sighed and focused on his combination.

He could handle Flash. He had handled a lot worse in the past few months.

“Hey, Penis Parker,” Flash said with a smirk. He leaned against the locker beside him, and Peter did his best to ignore him, “Did you hear that we’re doing Academic Decathlon auditions again? Without Liz, I’m sure to make it on the team. I’ve been studying the whole break. I bet you haven’t even picked up a book. I doubt you’ll make it on the team this time.”

Peter’s gut twisted, not because he thought that he wouldn’t make it on the team (or that he even cared if he did or not at this point) but because of the flippant way Flash spoke about everything.

“Hey, moron. I don’t know where you got your information from, but former members of the team are staying on. Auditions are to fill the openings.”

The sound of Michelle’s voice caused a wide smile to appear on his face. He spun around to face her, ignoring the sputtering from Flash. 

“MJ!”

Michelle smirked at him as she approached. She was dressed in dark jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt with a black jacket that was a few sizes too big for her, and a pair of black converse. Her hair was pulled back half-heartedly, with several strands sticking out. She looked beautiful.

He didn’t even notice when Flash sulked away.

Peter didn’t even hesitate. He threw his arms around her. Unlike the time before he left for Skip’s, she hugged back without hesitation.

“Are you still at Stark Tower?” he asked the moment he pulled away. It had been one of his concerns at Skip’s. He had no way of knowing if Michelle had gotten a foster home yet.

“Yeah,” she answered, “But they’re planning on opening up some group homes for teenagers. It’s a lot harder to place us. Not everyone can be as lucky as you.”

It was said with a smirk, so Peter knew that she was joking, but he couldn’t help the flinch that ran through his body when she said that.

He certainly didn’t feel lucky. In fact, he wanted nothing more than to go back to Stark Tower, where he didn’t even know that Skip existed.

The thought made him feel guilty, though. He knew that most of the Snap Orphans wanted a home. He had gotten one, and if he could just forget what happened at night…

“Peter!”

He didn’t have time to react before Ned barrelled into him. He stumbled back a few steps, surprised, but Ned’s bear hug made it impossible for him to fall. He didn’t see the way MJ’s face fell.

“Good to see you, Ned.”

The boy pulled away and grinned widely at him.

“I’m so glad to see you,” Ned exclaimed as he pulled away, “My mom has asked me every single day if I’ve heard from you. She won’t take no as an answer. She doesn’t seem to understand that you don’t have a phone anymore. How are you? How have you been? Are you still in Stark Tower? Can I visit Stark Tower?”

Peter held up his hands, cutting him off with a grin.

“No, I’m not there anymore. I’m in a foster home,” he answered, “Ned, you’ll never believe it, though. I met Tony Stark.”

“ _ The _ Tony Stark?”

Peter nodded. He grinned, but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Michelle sliding away quietly.

He almost called her back.

He didn’t.

“I taught him to change a diaper.”

“When did  _ you  _ learn to change a diaper?”

* * *

Peter had AP Biology first period, and neither Ned nor Michelle were in it with him. He slid into a seat in the back and found his eyes trailing over the numerous new students. It felt like he was with a whole new set of classmates. 

In a way, he figured that was true. Those who were left were left changed. Peter knew that he, at least, was not the same as he was before the Snap.

The teacher was not the same teacher as the one he had beforehand. Ms. Sanders had dusted, and Peter knew that one of the big reasons for why it took so long for the school to reopen was because they had to find new teachers. The elderly woman at the desk at the front of the room was definitely the new teacher. 

He had liked Ms. Sanders.

He was so focused on taking in the changes to the class that he hadn’t noticed anyone taking the seat beside his.

“Well, hello to you too, Peter.”

He jumped, the familiar voice that entered his ear causing his head to snap towards the source.

“Harley!?”

The boy grinned at him as he set his book bag on the desk. 

“Surprised?” he asked. At Peter’s nod, he continued, “You thought you got rid of me, didn’t you? Tony insisted that I have the best education, and apparently that’s at Midtown. Although, I have to admit I’m not impressed so far.”

Peter grinned back. He hadn’t expected to see Harley today, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. He liked Harley, even if he hadn’t known him for long.

“It used to be impressive,” he responded.

He hadn’t really thought about the implication that flowed through his words, but he couldn’t really deny it. Midtown had been a great school, well-funded and respected and growing brilliant minds. Peter had been lucky to get the scholarship he had gotten, and he had never taken it for granted. 

Half of the brilliant minds were gone, though. Maybe more, with how many students probably had to move to stay with family. Admired teachers were gone, too, replaced with those that were probably not as accomplished. Funding was down, and with students having been out of school for over a month, grades sure were going to be as well.

Harley’s grinned fell. He grimaced, catching onto the implication.

The bell rang, and the chatter amongst the students dissipated as the new teacher stood up. 

“Hello, class,” she said, stepping forward with a cane, “My name is Mrs. Morrison. Now, I may have been retired for the last ten years, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to take kindly to anyone walking over me,” she shot watery eyes over them and then smiled, “Now, first things first. Let’s talk about the Science Fair.”

* * *

Peter didn’t have another class with Harley before lunch, but English was with MJ, who pointedly sat on the other end of the room from him. She ignored the confused look he sent her, focusing on a sketch in her notebook. The English teacher, who Peter was pretty sure was the only one of his teachers who hadn’t dusted or moved away to be with family, walked in before he could go over and ask her what was wrong.

Algebra was similar. MJ didn’t walk in until the last moment, and by then Peter was already seated next to Ned, listening to him ramble on about his classes. Again, she took a seat at the opposite end of the class.

When lunchtime rolled around, he knew that he had to talk to her.

She practically bolted out of class the moment the bell rang. Peter stood up to follow her, but she had already fled down the hall.

“I’ll meet you in the cafeteria,” he told Ned, before taking off after her.

He almost lost her. Crowds of students had already made their way into the halls, pushing past each other with the excitement that could only be held by teenagers on their way to lunch after a long day of school. He only just spotted her curls between the rushing bodies as she slipped into the library.

He quickly squeezed past the crowd and followed her in.

“MJ!” he called as he caught up to her.

She spun around as he approached, eyes open in surprise and… was that disappointment?

“Hey,” he said as he came to a stop. He opened his mouth, planning on asking her about her day or what she thought about the new teacher, but instead what came out was, “Why are you avoiding me?”

She cocked an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms across her chest defensively.

“I’m not,” she said.

“You are,” he countered, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice, “You wouldn’t sit by me, and you hardly even looked at me,” he paused, uncertain, “Did I do something?”

He couldn’t think of what he could have done. They had been talking like normal that morning, and then Ned had shown up and she had fled without another word.

She shook her head, a bemused look on her face.

“I’m not friends with Ned,” she said bluntly, “but you are, so I figured it would be best to leave you guys to it.”

Peter blinked, eyebrows furrowing. 

“It’s just  _ Ned _ .”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Peter, I’m not good with people,” she said, arms crossed across her chest, “I don’t  _ do  _ friends.”

Peter was silent for a moment, frowning.

“What about me?”

Michelle paused. A puzzled look crossed her eyes. 

“What?”

“What about me?” He repeated, “You said you don’t do friends but… well, aren’t  _ we  _ friends?”

He was suddenly struck with a bout of worry. Had he read her wrong? Had he been so dependent on her continuous presence during everything that was going on that he had completely missed that she really didn’t like him?

“You’re different,” she responded.

“Different?”

She smiled hesitantly and nodded.

“Yeah, you’re Peter. You’re my friend, and no one has been able to do that before. You’re different.”

“What about Harley?”

“He’s an acquaintance at best,” she said with a shrug, “I’ll talk to him every now and then, but he’s not you.”

Peter couldn’t help the warm feeling in his chest. He forced himself not to grin at her words, unable to help but feel proud and… something more at her words. Red blossomed over his cheeks, and he ducked his head lightly so that she wouldn’t see it, but if the smirk that spread across her lips said anything, she had.

He cleared his throat.

“Okay, but… I like hanging out with you. You don’t have to run off when Ned is around. He won’t mind if you tag along with us.”

“I don’t want to be the third wheel.”

“You won’t! It’ll be like… like a tricycle. All working equally.”

“A tricycle,” she repeated, arching an eyebrow at him.

Peter nodded and let out an awkward laugh, face hot.

“Yeah, like the three muskateers. They’re all important, right?”

MJ smirked and let out a soft hum.

“Perhaps.”

“So come eat lunch with us,” he said, “And if Ned talks your ear off, you can always leave.”

There was a moment where Peter thought she would refuse, where the look that crossed her face looked far too uncertain, but then she sighed.

“Okay,” she said, “but you owe me for making me be social.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll eat lunch with you in the library,” he suggested.

A small grin replaced the previous smirk. Peter beamed at the sight of it. 

“Deal.”

* * *

Peter was dreading returning home and leaving the refuse of MJ, Ned, and Harley, but the final bell announced his return to Skip, and he squared his jaw as he trudged along home. 

By the time he was making his way towards the front door, stomach twisting with anxiety over returning, the door swung open, and Peter was nearly barrelled over by Marianna.

“Petey!” she exclaimed, arms wrapping tightly around him, “I missed you!”

He forced himself to smile at the child. In the week that she had been in the house, only a few days less than him, she had slowly begun to come out of her shell, and she had instantly clung to Peter like her life depended on it. Unlike little Logan, however, who never met a stranger and believed everyone in the house to be his best friend, Marianna had only opened up to Peter, shying away from the others. 

“Missed you too, Mari,” he said, kneeling down in front of her and ruffling her curls, “Did you have fun at kindergarten?”

She shook her head and buried her face in his shoulder.

He let out a soft hum and stood up, gesturing for her to come inside with him. She clung to his leg, but he didn’t mind. He knew this was her way of coping, by clinging to him every waking hour of the day. At this point, there were a lot of worse ways she could be coping.

Violet was in the living room when he entered, in the middle of doing cartwheels in front of the tv. She looked up at him silently, and he did the sign that Summer had taught him for ‘hello.’ She grinned and repeated it back to him. 

He didn’t know much sign language yet, as he had only been learning for a few days, so he turned to Marianna to ask his question.

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Summer and Christopher got sent to their rooms for fighting,” she said, fingers wrapped around his hand tightly, “Asher, Zoe, and Logan are in the backyard. Skip is in his office.”

Peter nodded. His stomach squirmed as he looked down at the girl.

“I need to go talk to Skip,” he said, voice shaking slightly. He didn’t want to, but he had something to ask him, “Can you go play?”

He could tell that she almost refused, but then she sighed dramatically, nodded, and made her way over to the couch.

He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, and walked towards Skip’s office.

He knocked swiftly on the door and squared his shoulders. He could hear his heart in his ears, the fear that Skip might do something despite having only ever done anything at night, when the other kids weren’t around was coursing through his veins. The sight of Skip sent shivers down his spine, and he tended to avoid the man as much as possible.

He couldn’t now, though. He needed to ask him something.

“Come in.”

He swallowed and swung the door open. Skip was sitting at his desk, and there was a smirk on his face as he looked at Peter that caused his mouth to go dry. He pulled his eyes to the ground and stuffed his hands in his pockets to hide the way they shook.

“H-hey,” he said, voice shaking,”Uh, we’re having a Science Fair at school, and I’m going to be working on it with a friend of mine, so… c-can I go over to his place a few days a week after school to work on it?”

He heard, rather than saw, Skip get up from his chair. His gaze was glued to the floor, and he stiffened as the man approached him. Fingers touched his chin, forcing his head up.

“Who is this friend?”

“His name is H-Harley,” he answered, voice barely above a whisper, “He lives at Stark Tower.”

He didn’t mention that it wasn’t the group home that Harley lived. He didn’t want to bring up Tony Stark. He knew Skip would never let him go there if he knew that Harley lived with Tony Stark.

There was a moment where Skip didn’t say anything, and Peter felt his stomach clench. He wasn’t sure what he would tell Harley if Skip said no. There was no way he was going to bring his friend over to his house, after all. Not around Skip. 

“Okay, Einstein,” Skip finally said, and Peter felt his shoulders sag with relief, “But I better not hear that you’re going over there and spilling our secrets. Remember our deal.”

Peter swallowed and nodded. Oh, he knew the deal well enough. He stayed silent about what Skip did, and the other kids stayed safe. Peter just had to deal with the man coming into his room a few nights a week and… touching him. If he could handle that, the kids had a loving family. The kids wouldn’t get swallowed by the overwhelmed system, and Skip would stay away from their rooms at night.

“Good,” Skip said, nodding, “When are you going over there?”

“Harley suggested Wednesdays and Fridays.”

“Okay. I’ll allow it. You need to be home by ten every night, though. Understand?”

“Of course.”

* * *

Skip didn’t come to Peter’s room every night. Since that first night a week before, he had come to Peter’s room three times. It was always past midnight, when the other kids were asleep, and he would always stay for several hours. He was always careful to be quiet, and Peter often found himself with a hand clamped over his mouth to keep him from crying out too loudly

It was a secret, he would always say. The others couldn’t know. Peter understood. He didn’t want them to know, either. 

Peter didn’t sleep well, though. He was always in his room by eleven at the latest, but he rarely got to sleep before three in the morning, even if Skip didn’t show up. The nights Skip wasn’t there, he would lay in bed, staring at the door with dread, wondering if the man was going to show up or not.

Which was why Peter found himself wide awake around one in the morning that night. He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, every little noise the house made causing him to jump. 

Nights were the worst. Peter could handle daytime. He knew that daytime meant that Skip would keep his distance, that he would put on a smile and be the World’s #1 Dad. He wouldn’t dare try anything in fear of someone seeing, so Peter was safe. Even if the sight of the man nearly sent him into an asthma attack every hour of the day, he could at least feel at least a little relaxed and secure.

Nighttime was another matter. Nighttime meant danger. It meant Skip’s hands on him, touching him, ignoring his pleas. It meant fear and hurt and oftentimes tears.

He didn’t like nights anymore.

The sound of soft footsteps caught his attention. He swallowed and gripped his pillow, hugging it to his chest. He could hear them coming closer, and he knew -  _ he knew  _ \- who it was. 

The shadow of the person appeared at the foot of his door. He swallowed and hid his face in the pillow.

There was no way for him to stop it.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. Confusion swarmed in his stomach, because Skip never knocked. The door swung open and a soft voice cut through the silent air.

“Petey?” Marianna sniffed, “I had another nightmare.”

He pushed himself into a sitting position so that he could see the little girl. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she had her arms wrapped around her trembling form.

“Come here,” he said.

She walked over and climbed into his bed, burying her face in his shoulder. Her fingers clutched his shirt.

“It was the bad men,” she whispered against him, “They hurt daddy. They were going to hurt me.”

Peter didn’t know much about Marianna’s past, but he knew that it wasn’t the same as the others in the house. He knew from the little snippets that she had told him that she had not lost her father in the Snap, but something else had happened to him afterwards. 

He was pretty sure that he had been murdered. And from what Marianna had said, he was pretty sure that she had seen it.

“They’re not here,” he reassured her, “You’re safe.”

She trembled against him and sniffed once more. He felt his shirt become damp with her tears.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” she asked quietly, “I don’t want them to come back.”

He licked his lips and glanced nervously at his door. He didn’t know what Skip would do if the man showed up and Marianna was in his room. He didn’t really want to find out, didn’t want to risk Marianna’s safety.

But the girl was already laying down, taking his silence as an affirmative, and he couldn’t find it in himself to send the five-year-old away when she was scared.

“Okay,” he whispered, leaning back beside her, “But you have to go to sleep.”

She nodded. She reached out and clutched his hand, clinging to him for comfort, and he briefly wondered how May and Ben had handled Peter when he was Marianna’s age and dealing with his parents’ deaths.

Marianna fell asleep quickly. Peter did not. He stared at the ceiling and prayed that Skip would not come that night. 

It was around two in the morning, though, that his door opened. Peter felt his heart in his chest as the man peaked into the room. His eyes fell on Marianna’s sleeping form, and his face darkened, annoyed.

But he left. He wasn’t going to do anything with Marianna in the room.

Peter let out a sigh of relief. Tears pricked at his eyes, and his body trembled. He glanced down at Marianna’s sleeping form, and softly whispered.

“Thank you,” he said, unable to keep the shaky smile from his face, “Thank you.”

It was the first time something had stopped Skip, and it gave him at least a little semblance of control back.

* * *

When Peter arrived at Stark Tower on Wednesday, it took a lot to keep himself from falling into memories of when he had lived there. He missed it. He missed helping Margaret and Bea with the babies, or playing board games with Michelle, or even listening to the noisy teenagers playing air hockey. He missed the worst thing he felt at night being loneliness.

Harley met him in the lobby. He was leaning against the wall with a smirk, completely oblivious to Peter’s problems.

“Tony is going to let us use the lab,” he told him in the elevator, typing away on his StarkPhone, “But he’s being a mother hen and demanding to supervise us, because apparently he doesn’t trust us.”

“Actually, Master Harley,” FRIDAY’s voice caused Peter to smile lightly, “I believe the correct words were that he doesn’t trust you. I believe he trusts Peter very much.”

Harley frowned at the ceiling.

“Oh, so he’s Peter and I’m ‘Master Harley?’”

“That is his name.”

If Peter didn’t know any better, he would have thought there was a touch of amusement in the A.I.’s voice. 

The elevator opened up to the labs. Peter followed Harley out, but his feet glued to the ground at the sight in front of him.

“Whoa,” he whispered.

“Whoa is right,” another voice said. 

Tony Stark is standing by one of the tables, an Iron Man suit laid out in front of him. He’s in the middle of tinkering with it, dressed in a pair of oil-stained jeans and a Led Zeppelin T-Shirt. He peers up at them through a pair of square glasses.

“Good to see you again, Mr. Babysitter,” Mr. Stark says, “I’ve got you guys a table set up over there. Harley said you liked chemistry, so I got you a kit, but you better not cause any explosions.”

His eyes flick over to the table in question, confirming that it has been set up with what looks like a rather extensive and expensive chemistry kit. The table next to it is definitely set up for Harley, filled with robotics. 

“I’ll do my best, Mr. Stark,” he said, unable to keep the grin off of his face.

He had met Tony Stark before, had spent a whole day with him, had taught him how to change a diaper, even! It still didn’t take away the awe that Peter felt in the man’s presence.

“You better. I just fixed the whole in the wall from the last explosion.”

“That was Sunday,” Harley whispered to Peter, and Peter’s bit back a laugh.

Tony arched an eyebrow at Harley. He waved a screwdriver at him.

“Don’t go telling all my secrets, gremlin. Oh, and Peter!” 

The man grabbed something off the table and tossed it at Peter. He nearly dropped it, catching it just in time.

It was a StarkPhone.

“Harley mentioned something about your phone being out of that service. I’m paying for the plan on this one, so don’t worry about it. My number and Harley’s are already programmed in.

Peter's mouth dropped open. He stared at the sleek smartphone, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Mr. Stark! I… I can’t accept this! This is… like… a thousand dollars!”

“In case you’ve forgotten, kid, I’m a billionaire, and I own these things. It’s not going to kill me. Besides, think of it as an investment into whatever you guys create.”

Peter looked down at his phone. He had never even had a smartphone before, not to mention a StarkPhone, but he had always wanted one, and a phone meant contact with Ned, MJ, and Harley outside of school. It meant, possibly, a way to call for help if need be, and while he didn’t plan on using it for such a thing, having it was reassuring.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

“No problem, kid. Now, you two get to creating the world’s next greatest invention.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINALLY got to the point where we are going to start getting some IronDad. The whole reason I wrote this story was for that, but his presence has been lacking due to what is going on in Peter's life. I promise that from now on, both Tony and Harley are going to be much bigger players. 
> 
> Leave a comment and tell me what you think! Follow me at babysitterxsteve on tumblr if you want to, as well! I love hearing from you guys, and it really encourages me to write faster.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is reading, and I'll see you next chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

Peter grimaced as he poked at the substance in the test tube with a pair of prongs. He had been experimenting around with a few chemicals,, and he had ended up with something that looked like white slime. It stuck to his prongs, and he stretched it, a bit fascinated by how strong it seemed to be.

“Weird,” Harley said. He was leaning beside him, eyes glued to the substance. His robotics laid discarded in front of him, “It’s so… sticky.”

Peter nodded in agreement. He tried to get it off the prongs and failed. 

“Well, I can safely say that this round was a failure.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We can work with this.”

They kind of had to. After several weeks of being stumped on what to do, they were desperate to find some kind of invention to take to the Science Fair. Harley was insistent that it had to be new and cool, and he had trashed several of their previous experiments because of that.

Harley grabbed another set of prongs. He grabbed onto part of the substance and pulled, but it only stretched. He set the prongs down and grabbed a knife, attempting to cut through it. It took several minutes to cut through, which was definitely impressive for the slime-like substance, and he finally freed it. He took it into his glove-clad hands, stretching and morphing it.

“This isn’t like any slime that I’ve ever seen,” he said, shaking his hand as he realized that the substance was now stuck to his gloves. He then let part of it fall to the table and tried to pull up. It didn’t budge, stuck to the metal.

Peter nodded in agreement, studying it closely. It was definitely an interesting substance, but he couldn’t see what use it could have. 

“It’s like some kind of stretchy glue,” Peter said as he leaned in closer to observe it.

Harley grabbed the substance and stretched it as far as his hands could go, watching as it thinned but never broke.

“No,” Harley said, a grin on his face, “It’s like a spider web. I think we can work with this.”

* * *

That night, Peter found himself curled under his blankets after Skip left, hugging his pillow to his chest and staring blankly at the wall. He had hoped that Skip would leave him alone, still on the high from Harley’s idea for their science project, but Skip never did what Peter wanted.

Light footsteps caught his attention. His eyes darted from the wall to the door, heart skipping a beat momentarily, because Skip didn’t often come to his room twice in a night, but it had happened before, but he quickly recognized that it wasn’t Skip. He had lived in the house long enough to differentiate between Skip’s footsteps and the other kids’ footsteps.

His door slowly slid open. He was expecting to see Marianna, who had gained a habit of sneaking off to his room when she had a nightmare. He was surprised to see Asher.

The boy stood awkwardly at the doorway, fingers fiddling with the sleeves of his shirt. Peter could tell that he was blushing even in the dark.

“H-hey,” Asher said quietly, “Marianna said she sleeps better in here.”

Peter slowly pushed himself up on the bed. He ran a hand through his hair, confused.

“Uh, yeah.”

“C-can I sleep in here tonight?”

Peter blinked. Out of all of the kids, Asher was the most timid around him. He wasn’t snarky and avoiding him at all times like Christopher was, but he tended to stay to himself, and he didn’t seem to interact with anyone except for his sister Zoe. He was one of the last ones he expected to ask that question.

“Sure,” he found himself saying anyway, scooting over on the bed.

The boy slowly inched forward until he reached the bed. He sat on the edge, and then he stared at his hands. 

Peter gingerly tapped his knee. He swallowed, watching the boy for a moment.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked finally. 

His mind was already bringing up horrors to his mind. Asher was the next oldest boy. At twelve, he was only two years younger than Peter, and out of all of the kids, he was the one that worried Peter the most when he saw Skip near him. While he had always tried to reassure himself that the boy shared a room with Christopher and Logan and that if something was going on, surely one of the three would say something, he couldn’t keep the worries away.

Asher shook his head, but in the light from the streetlights that filtered in through the curtains, Peter could see tears in his eyes. 

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” he asked suddenly.

“What?”

“My dad died,” Asher said. He practically spit it out, and his arms wrapped around his torso tightly, hugging himself, “He died, he dusted, and I’m glad.”

Peter wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He stared at the boy, eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t understand.

Asher seemed to realize that.

“He was always so m-mean,” he whispered, “he got so angry all the time, and he was always drinking and yelling, and he would h-hit me.”

He stopped talking suddenly, furiously wiping his face. Peter reached over and gently placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. His heart sunk. Realization was setting in.

Asher continued.

“I was sad when he disappeared. He was… he was my  _ dad _ , after all… but… it’s different here. It’s better. I like it here, and Zoe is safe here, and it’s nice. Skip… he’s a much better father. He’s good.”

Peter felt like he could throw up. He didn’t think of Skip as a father, and he definitely didn’t think of him as good anything. He… he hated Skip, but Skip  _ was  _ giving these kids a home. As far as he knew, Peter was the only one he was hurting, and Peter was going to do everything in his power to keep it that way. 

“You’re not a bad person, Asher,” he whispered, “You’ve got a family here.”

He couldn’t say anything about Skip. It left a bad taste in his mouth. Asher had no idea what Skip was doing. As far as he knew, Skip was the picture-perfect father that he made everyone believe he was.

He couldn’t let Asher know the truth. He couldn’t take this from him.

“Yeah,” Asher replied. He smiled lightly, “I do.”

“Get some sleep. It’s a school night,” Peter said. He pushed part of his pillow over for the younger boy to use. 

It didn’t take long until Peter heard the twelve-year-old’s breath even out as he fell asleep.

Peter did not sleep. Instead, he stared at the door, terrified that Skip would come in again, that he would not leave like he did when Marianna was there, that Skip would hurt Asher, too.

So, he kept watch, telling himself that he would protect the younger boy, that he would make sure that Asher never knew what was going on when he was asleep.

* * *

He was startled awake in science class by his teacher smacking a ruler on his desk. 

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He had only meant to rest his eyes for a moment, but suddenly it was ten minutes later and he had an annoyed teacher standing at his desk. 

“Mr. Parker,” Mrs. Morrison said, a tight smile on her face, “Please try and stay awake in my class.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry,” he said quickly. She thrust a paper towards him, and he grabbed it from her.

“Alright, now that I have everyone’s attention. I have important news,” she said as she began to walk away from his desk, “Midtown has the pleasure of going on a field trip to Oscorp Industries in two weeks. We will be given a tour of the tower, which will undoubtedly include some highly advanced scientific achievements that we will be able to view.”

Peter barely paid attention to what she was saying, too focused on making sure he didn’t fall asleep. He comprehended enough to know that this was something that needed Skip’s signature, which meant yet another thing that he would have to seek him out for. 

Great.

“Psst. Peter.”

He glanced back at Harley, who was staring at him with furrowed eyebrows. 

“What’s up?” Harley whispered, “You never fall asleep in class.”

“Just didn’t sleep well last night,” he said quickly, brushing it off. There was no way he was about to admit to the boy why he didn’t sleep. 

No. That would be his secret. He could deal with it.

* * *

The moment Peter stepped through the front door, he was practically tackled by Marianna. He was prepared for it, as Marianna tended to do that a lot. However, instead of the girl clinging to his leg, she grabbed his hand and pulled him forward.

“Violet and I are having a tea party,” she announced cheerfully, dragging him to the dinner table, where three coffee mugs had been set up, “I saved you a spot!”

Peter blinked in surprise, but he didn’t resist as she ushered him to sit down. 

Violet waved and smiled at him as he sat down. She signed a greeting that he recognized now. He responded back with a clumsy sign of “how are you?” to which she responded with a quick and cheerful, “Good!”

He was getting better at sign language, but he still had a ways to go. Violet seemed to appreciate it, at least. 

Marianna mimed pouring tea out of a measuring cup into the coffee mug in front of him. She then picked up her own, lifted up her pinky, and held it up to her lips.

“Mm,” she said, “Scrumptious!”

Peter couldn’t help the grin that appeared on his lips. 

When he didn’t make a move to pretend to drink from his cup, Violet kicked him under the table, then brought her own cup to her lips pointedly. 

“Oh, right,” he said. He brought the cup to his lips, “Mm, delicious.”

Marianna giggled. She held up the salt.

“Sugar?”

“Of course.”

She shook some of the salt into his mug and then placed it back down.

Peter did not see Skip enter the room, so he jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. His entire body tensed, the playful feeling gone in an instant. The air felt cold suddenly.

“Now what are you guys doing?” Skip asked, a warm voice echoing out of his mouth that had once fooled Peter, but now leaked of fraud.

“We’re having a tea party,” Marianna grinned. She hopped up from her chair and made a beeline for the cabinet, “I can get you a cup to join!”

Peter dug his nails into his thigh, mentally begging the man to refuse.

“Oh, not today,” Skip said, and Peter sagged in relief, “Actually, I need to borrow Peter.”

He froze.

“But we’re having a tea party,” Marianna protested.

“I’m afraid this can’t wait, Marianna. You can have your tea party later tonight. Now, Peter.”

Peter sucked in a breath, trying to think of what Skip could want him for and coming up short. He didn’t want to be alone with him, but Skip gestured him forward, and Peter found that he had no choice.

He followed Skip to the man’s office, stomach tight with nerves. He could hear Marianna in the kitchen, babbling to Violet about whether or not they could ask Summer or Asher to join, and he tried to focus on how it was good that she was finally opening up to the others.

Was this about Asher? Did Skip find out that Asher had spent the night in his room? Was he upset about that?

The door to the office closed. Peter stared at the wall, unwilling to meet the man’s eyes. A hand touched his arm, and he swallowed thickly. 

“I need a favor from you.”

Peter frowned. He forced himself not to move away, but instead he looked up.

“What do you mean?” he asked, voice quiet.

“Christopher got detention,” he explained, and Peter’s eyebrows furrowed, “He backtalked one of his teachers, apparently. I would pick him up, but I’ve got to pick up Zoe from her soccer practice. Can you pick him up?”

Peter paused, surprised. His eyebrows furrowed, and he felt his shoulders relax.

“Yeah, okay. I can do that,” he said with a short nod. Christopher’s school wasn’t too far away, and he knew where it was. It would be a bit of a walk, but he could make it.

Besides, it meant getting away from Skip for a while. He would take that.

He was just about to walk out when he remembered something. He took in a deep breath.

“By the way, my school is going on a field trip. To Oscorp. Can I go?”

Skip looked up. His eyes seemed to analyze Peter’s face, and for a moment, he was sure that he would say no. But then, the man simply nodded.

“Of course. I’ll sign the permission slip when you’re back.”

Relief spread through him, though he figured he should have known that there was no reason for Skip to say no. Refusing would only look suspicious, and Skip was all about maintaining the Father of the Year status. 

“Thank you,” he said, and before Skip could keep him any longer, he darted from the room.

* * *

He was glad that he remembered to bring his inhaler with him. The trek to the school was farther than he originally thought, and the few times he tried to jog to get there faster had resulted in him having to take a breath to breath in the medicine. 

Eventually, though, the school came into his sight, and he found Christopher waiting outside with his hood drawn up over his head and hands stuffed in his pocket. 

“Where’s Skip?” he asked gruffly as he pushed himself off of the wall. 

“He had to pick Zoe up from practice,” Peter said. 

A sour look covered the boy’s face. He kicked the ground and started walking forward.

“Of course he did.”

Peter blinked and quickly caught up to him. The younger boy seemed dead set on walking home silently, though, as he looked straight ahead. His body was tense, as if ready to strike at any moment, just like he always was. He was always so… angry.

Peter chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, pondering, and then he spoke.

“Is everything okay?”

Christopher’s dark eyes darted to him. He clenched his jaw.

“Why do you care?” he asked through gritted teeth. He stopped walking, feet glued to the gravel as he stared him down.

“We’re foster brothers.”

“You are  _ not  _ my brother,” Christopher hissed, “Don’t try to be. Brennan is  _ dead  _ and you won’t replace him.”

“That’s… that’s not what I meant.”

Christopher’s eyes narrowed. He pointed his finger at Peter accusingly.

“Yes, it is. I don’t want any other siblings. You’re all just coming in and taking the one person that I have left away from me. Especially you!”

“Me?”

There was an intensity in his eyes that surprised Peter, but also something that looked suspiciously like tears.

“Yes, you.  _ You’re  _ his favorite.”

The sentence sent all the air out of his chest. Peter stared at Christopher, eyes wide, unable to come up with a response. He felt sick. 

“Brennan was always his favorite,” Christopher continued, and it was those words that connected two dots in Peter’s mind that he had previously ignored, “And now it’s you.”

Oh.

_ Oh _ .

The realization slammed into Peter like a train, leaving him breathless.

This wasn’t about Skip’s wife leaving. Skip had been doing this before the Snap. Brennan was Peter’s age, and that photo he had seen… He had done the same thing to Brennan. He had done this to other kids.

Peter  _ was  _ Brennan’s replacement. 

At least for Skip.

Peter shook his head, finding that words were not coming to his lips to respond to Christopher’s accusation. His chest hurt as he tried to pull in a breath, but he found that he couldn’t. The world felt like it was spinning, and black spots appeared in his eyes. He took a step forward with the intent to just keep walking but suddenly stumbled.

“Peter?” the anger that had previously been in Christopher’s voice was gone for what Peter dimly thought was the first time he met him. 

He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, but every breath felt like it was being stopped. HIs chest burned. 

Skip had hurt Christopher’s brother. If that was true, which he was pretty sure it was, then Skip undoubtedly would have no problems hurting another kid if Peter managed to leave. He would hurt someone else, Asher, maybe Christopher, maybe even one of the girls. And how was he supposed to know whether or not he wasn’t hurting them now?

No, he had to  _ protect  _ them. He had t-

“Peter!”

Right. Right, Christopher was here. He forced his eyes to turn from where they had fallen blankly on the ground to where the boy was staring at him, brown eyes wide with concern. 

“Peter, you need to breathe.”

But he couldn’t. No matter how much he tried to, he couldn’t get a breath in. Clumsily he searched for his inhaler and yanked it out of his pocket, but he couldn’t get enough of a breath in for the medicine to even work. 

He had never had an asthma attack like this so badly before. The inhaler always worked.

“Can’t. Breathe,” he choked out.

“Yes, you can,” Christopher said.

But he couldn’t. He tried, desperately, to suck in a breath, but nothing. He couldn’t breathe.

Christopher grabbed Peter’s hand suddenly. He pressed it against his chest.

“Follow my breathing.”

He was too out of it to even question how the kid knew what to do. He could just barely comprehend what he meant in the first place, but as he felt Christopher’s chest rise and fall, he understood.

It seemed to take ages as he forced himself to breathe in time with Christopher, but finally he found himself taking in the precious oxygen. 

His entire body trembled, and he realized suddenly that there were tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“O-oh,” he whispered, feeling his cheeks turn bright red at the realization that Christopher had just seen that, “Sorry. I haven’t had an asthma attack like that since… since I found out about my uncle.”

Christopher was silent for a moment. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at him.

“Was he snapped?”

Peter swallowed and looked away. He shook his head.

“He died in the snap,” he said softly, “He was hit by a car. My aunt was snapped, though. They raised me.”

“What happened to your parents?”

It hit Peter suddenly that this was the most that Christopher had ever spoken to him before, at least when he wasn’t being passive aggressive or rude. There was genuine curiosity and worry in his eyes. He wondered, briefly, if this was the Christopher that Brennan had known, before his grief.

“They died when I was little,” he answered. It was a lot easier to talk about his parents than his aunt and uncle. He had grieved his parents already. He barely remembered them. His aunt and uncle’s passing was still fresh, “A plane crash. I don’t remember them much.”

“I’m sorry,” Christopher said, and Peter had a feeling it was for more than his parents dying. He paused for a moment, and then said, “I don’t remember much about my parents either. I don’t know who my dad was, and my mom abandoned Brennan and me when I was three.”

Just like that, Peter could feel something change between them, some kind of understanding. An exchange of small details of their past, a show of trust.

Peter could work with that.

“Let’s go home.”

* * *

“Alright, you three. How about we take a break for some food?”

The sound of Pepper’s voice floating into the lab a few days later made a smile break over Peter’s face. He turned from the chemicals to where she was walking in, heels clicking against the hard floor. She was farther along in her pregnancy now, clearly showing, and she was holding two pizza boxes in her hands.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?” Mr. Stark said as he fished the boxes out of her hands and placed them at a table away from the chemicals and metal. 

“I gathered that when you asked me to marry you,” she responded.

Harley mimed gagging, and Peter stifled a laugh behind his hand.

The four of them crowded around the table. Peter grabbed a slice from the box.

Pepper eyes glanced over to where Peter and Harley were working, at the various vials of failed webbing and the robot that sat next to them.

“What are you boys making?”

“A robotic spider,” Harley answered, “One that can spin its own web. We’re still working on getting the webbing right. We want to make it so it dissolves eventually instead of just leaving the webbing behind to create waste.”

“Theoretically, the webbing should be strong enough to hold the weight of the average adult, but the problem is that it creates a big mess right now,” Peter added, “I think this new batch might work, though.”

“Good, good,” Pepper said, nodding. Her hand was on her stomach and there was a light smile on her face. Peter recognized it. The baby was moving, “I know that you guys are going to do amazing at the science fair. We could use the two of you at Stark Industries when you’re older.”

Peter’s eyes widened at that.

“Really?”

“You’d be better than most of our interns,” Mr. Stark said through a mouth full of pizza.

Peter turned to Harley, expecting the other boy to be just as excited about that knowledge as he was, but there was a mischievous smirk on the boy’s face.

“Maybe I want to work for Oscorp.”

Mr. Stark nearly choked. He swallowed the bite that he was chewing, coughed, and pointed the crust of his pizza accusingly at Harley.

“You’re trying to send me into an early grave, aren’t you?” he asked, “Stay away from Oscorp. You’re lucky I’m letting you on that field trip,” he paused for a moment and glanced at Pepper, “Why do we not do field trips?”

“I didn’t think you would want a bunch of teenagers snooping around your tower,” Pepper said, “Well, beyond the emergency home, that is.”

Mr. Stark seemed to ponder that for a moment, but then he shook his head.

“I don’t want Oscorp stealing these kids from us. Let’s look into it.”

Peter’s phone suddenly buzzed. He jumped, pulled it out of his pocket, and found himself staring at the alarm that he had set.

“Oh, shoot. I’ve got to get going,” he said, quickly pushing himself away from the table, “I didn’t realize it was so late. Skip wants me home by ten.”

He made his way over to the work table to start cleaning up.

He had set the alarm on his phone just in case, but this was the first time he had needed it. He had always kept an eye on the time, too worried about what Skip would do if he was late. He had been having fun with Mr. Stark and Harley, though, and had completely forgotten to keep an eye on the clock.

“Before you leave, can you mix the new formula? I’ll keep an eye on it tonight and text you the results,” Harley asked as he followed him over to the table, “But I don’t know enough about this to finish it, and we don’t want to waste it.”

Peter nodded. There was only one last step for the formula, anyway, so it would only take a minute.

He pulled his goggles back on, grabbed the test tube clamps, and picked up the test tube. He poured it into the beaker slowly.

At first, there was no reaction, and he frowned.

Then, it started to lightly bubble.

Suddenly, it shot out of the beaker.

Peter tried to jump back, but he wasn’t quick enough. The substance landed on him, spraying from his left shoulder, across his chest, and all the way down his right arm, firmly attaching it to the metal table underneath. When he tried to pull away, he found that he was stuck.

“Kid!” He heard Mr. Stark exclaimed, and three sets of footsteps were quickly making their way over to him.

“Uh,” he said, frowning, “That wasn’t supposed to happen. I think I’m stuck.”

“Is it burning?” Mr. Stark asked quickly, a look on his face that Peter wasn’t familiar with as he quickly pulled on gloves, “Do you feel it causing a reaction on your skin?”

Peter shook his head. He pulled again, but his arm didn’t budge. The moment the substance had been exposed to the air, it had hardened and attached itself firmly to Peter. 

“No, I just can’t move.”

“This dissolves, right?” Pepper asked, hovering behind Peter and looking over his shoulder as Mr. Stark attempted, and failed, to pull it off.

“It’s supposed to,” Harley clarified, “But this is obviously not doing what it’s supposed to do.”

Peter felt his heart begin to pick up speed. He needed to get going if he wanted to make it home in time. He hadn’t been late before. What if Skip was angry?

He pulled a bit more urgently.

“Hey, Peter, calm down,” Pepper said. Her hand hovered over his shoulder, but she avoided touching it, unwilling to find herself stuck, “We’ll figure this out. We’ll just send your foster father a message that you might be a little late.”

He could feel a pit forming in his stomach. 

“Yeah, I’ll have you out of this before you know it,” Mr. Stark said. He grabbed Peter’s notes and began to scan through them, “You’re looking at a certified genius. This will be a piece of cake.”

Peter swallowed, forcing his panic down. 

He had no doubt that Mr. Stark would get him out of it. This was Iron Man, after all. 

The question was when he would get him out of it.

And how mad Skip would be when he got home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys! Things are going to start really picking up next chapter, and for those paying attention, you'll see that something important is coming up soon.  
> I know this chapter was pretty heavy on the other kids (and incredibly lacking of Ned and MJ), but it's setting up for the next chapter, so it was necessary.  
> Leave me a comment telling me what you think, and follow me at babysitterxsteve on tumblr if you guys want! I love hearing from you guys!  
> (And yes, I am totally using Marianna as a semi-replacement for Morgan because she hasn't been born yet, and Peter and Morgan's sibling relationship is one of my favorite things in the world.)


	8. Chapter 8

“Peter. Peter, honey. Wake up.”

He blearily opened his eyes and groaned. His neck was stiff and he twisted it lightly as he attempted, and failed to bring his hand to his eyes. 

Right. He was still stuck.

Pepper was sitting in a chair next to him while Tony was at his desk, messing around with chemicals and slaving over Peter’s notes.

“What time is it?” he asked. He didn’t remember falling asleep. The last thing he remembered was Tony sending Harley up to bed after the first hour had passed with no luck of Peter being freed. 

“Around midnight,” Pepper answered.

Peter’s back stiffened. His eyes widened as he looked at her, and he pulled against the webbing that was stuck to him. 

“Midnight?” he yelped, “I was supposed to be home two hours ago!”

“Relax, Peter,” Pepper said, her voice soft. She placed her hand on his back, carefully making sure not to touch the webs, “I already called your foster father and told him what was going on. He agreed to let you just sleep over for the night.”

Peter felt his heart pick up even more. He shook his head frantically.

“No. No, I need to get back. I can’t sleep over!”

He shouldn’t be here anyway. Skip had been insistent that Peter get there on time, and if he wasn’t there, Peter didn’t want to think about what he would do to him when he got back. Worse than that, he didn’t want to think about what he could do to the other kids with Peter gone.

He’d already been gone for two hours. That was two hours that he had left the kids alone with Skip.

He couldn’t stay a whole night.

“Peter, it’s okay. You can’t go anywhere right now,” she said, eyeing the webbing that was keeping him back from protecting the kids, “Just relax. If you want to go home when we get you out, you can, but it will be late, and tomorrow is a school day. It’s probably better to just stay the night.”

Peter bit his lip and pulled against the webbing once more. He could feel his eyes burning with repressed tears. What if Skip had already hurt them? And he was just sitting here doing nothing?

He caught Pepper’s eye.

“I have to go home.”

Home. The word felt foreign on his tongue. He hadn’t had a home since May and Ben were still alive.

Not a real one, at least.

Something flickered in Pepper’s eyes. Something akin to concern.

“Okay, Peter,” she said, nodding, “Okay. Tony should have it off soon, and then we’ll take you home.”

* * *

He didn’t remember falling asleep again, but he woke up in a warm bed with the sunlight shining through the window. The New York skyline was visible from his bed.

He shot up in bed and quickly scrambled out, only to get his legs caught in the sheets and fall face first onto the floor.

“Ow,” he whined under his breath. 

As he got to work on detangling his feet from the sheets, he heard quick footsteps approaching the room. The door swung open before he could free himself, and he blushed at the sight of Tony Stark, standing in sweat-pants and a AC-DC t-shirt, in the doorway. The man arched an eyebrow at him, a smirk painted on his lips. 

“Having some trouble?”

Peter ducked his hand and pulled on the sheet once more, finally freeing his legs.

“I got it. I think the sheets were trying to kill me.”

“Sentient sheets. Maybe they’re related to Strange’s cloak.”

Peter blinked. His eyebrows furrowed as he pushed himself to his feet. 

“Uh…”

“Never mind,” Mr. Stark shook his head. He nodded his head over at a pile of clothes, “Harley’s lending you some clothes to wear. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but your clothes aren’t in the best condition.”

Peter glanced down at himself and grimaced. Whatever Mr. Stark had done to free him of the webbing had left what looked like bleach stains across his clothes. They were ruined. 

At least he was free.

“The shower is down the hall. Breakfast is waiting for you in the kitchen when you’re out. I hope you like banana nut pancakes, because Pepper insisted on them. It’s one of the better cravings she’s had, though, so I’m not complaining.”

Mr. Stark clapped a hand on his shoulder, and Peter felt a warm feeling spread through his chest. A smile flickered along his lips, and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of envy. Harley got this every day.

Like a flick of a switch, though, that warm feeling flew away, replaced with a cold sense of dread at the bottom of his stomach.

He hadn’t gone home last night. 

“W-when did you get the webbing off?”

“Around three in the morning. That webbing was a lot more complex than I was expecting. You’re doing a good job with it.”

Peter scoffed.

“Obviously not. It’s supposed to dissolve on its own.”

“You’ll get there. Now, get ready, or you’ll be late for school.”

* * *

Peter was used to breakfast being a wild affair. The kids were always running around and scarfing down food as they tried to get ready. There was always at least one fight before the buses arrived, and more often than not there was a mess to clean up. 

He expected it to be similar when he arrived in the kitchen. After all, there was always a mess in the lab, and chaos was always a breath away.

Instead, however, he found Mr. Stark seated on one end of the table, cutting up a pancake and tapping away on a tablet in front of him. Pepper had a book open in front of her, and instead of the normal formal attire that Peter so often saw her in, she was dressed in loose-fitting pajamas, her baby bump visible as she read. Harley was the only one who seemed in any way stressed as he frantically worked on a worksheet with his right hand while shoveling pancakes into his mouth with his left.

“Underoos! Welcome to the land of the living,” Mr. Stark said with a light smirk as he looked up from his tablet. He gestured at a plate next to Harley, “Eat up.”

Peter slipped into the seat silently, tense. His stomach twisted, and he felt queasy just looking at the food in front of him.

What had happened last night? Were the kids okay? Had Skip gone after any of them because Peter wasn’t there? 

He was supposed to go home last night.

His eyes flicked over to Pepper. She glanced up from her book and quickly glanced away.

She was supposed to take him home. She had said she would.

He bit down the urge to bring it up. As much as he wanted to find out why she hadn’t just woken him up and taken him home like she said she would, he didn’t want to bring attention to it. He didn’t want them to get suspicious. 

So, instead, he swallowed down the pancakes and tried to quench the overwhelming feeling that he had failed.

* * *

Peter floated throughout the school day, distracted and terrified. He vaguely remembered Harley tapping him on the back of the shoulder to ask if he was okay, but he couldn’t remember if he had answered. He had absolutely no clue what his teachers were talking about, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not pay attention.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what might have happened the night before. HIs stomach was twisting with worry over the kids, with terror that Skip might have turned on them. 

He was supposed to protect them. 

What was he supposed to do if he failed?

For the first time, he found himself seriously considering telling someone, but every time the idea came to his mind, he thought about Christopher, and how he had told him that Skip was all he had left. He thought about Marianna, who had only just started to settle in with the family. He thought about Asher, who was happy and felt safe with them. 

If he told, they would be ripped apart, sent to separate homes and have to adjust all over again. They could end up at a group one, one that wasn’t as nice as Stark Tower had been. They had it good at Skip’s house. He would be taking it away from them.

But if he didn’t… they could get hurt.

He was so lost in his thoughts, in the options screaming at him, that he found himself moving on autopilot. He didn’t even really comprehend that the bell had rung for lunch, and he found himself seated next to Ned in the cafeteria with no memory of walking there.

Normally, lunch in the cafeteria would mean rambling on with Ned about the newest Star Wars theory or lego set that he had seen or going over notes with Harley on their project. Instead, though, Ned seemed to be strangely silent, and Harley was nowhere to be found.

He blinked as Harley’s absence suddenly hit him.

“Where’s Harley?” he asked.

“He’s got lunch detention,” Ned answered with a deep frown, “Don’t you remember? He punched Flash earlier today.”

“What?” Peter snapped his head to Ned, eyes wide, “He  _ punched  _ Flash?”

Ned looked bewildered. He set his sandwich down and furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, you were there. Flash was being a jerk to you, as always, and Harley punched him in the face. He got him real good, too. Some people cheered.”

Peter blinked. He racked his memory for what Ned was talking about but found none. Flash didn’t bother him too much anymore, though it wasn’t for the lack of trying. Peter just had more to worry about than the boy’s annoying comments, and he had long since learned to tune him out.

He couldn’t remember what Flash had said earlier that day, and he definitely didn’t remember Harley punching Flash. 

(He wished he did. That sounded awesome.)

Ned leaned in a bit closer to him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, “You’ve been really spacey today. Did something happen?”

“I’m fine,” Peter said, shaking his head, “Just didn’t sleep too well last night. Had a bit of an accident in the lab and ended up having to stay over.”

_ And left the kids at home, alone, unprotected. _

“You and I both know that you’re not just tired,” Ned said, “You didn’t even react when I told you about the new Avengers Compound lego set that I got!”

If Peter wasn’t so stressed, he would definitely be interested in that knowledge. An Avengers Compound lego set? Now that sounded like a ton of fun.

But legos were the last thing on his mind.

“Ned,  _ I’m fine _ ,” he insisted.

“You’re not,” Ned said, and Peter frowned. Ned normally didn’t push like this but, then again, Peter usually could tell Ned everything.

“Just drop it, Ned.”

For a moment, Peter thought he would, but then he shook his head.

“No. Peter, I know something is wrong. You’ve been acting weird for a while. I know that something happened.”

“ _ Nothing _ happened.”

“ _ Peter _ !”

“I’m fine!”

“You’re not!”

“I am!”

“Peter, I can tell something’s wrong. Just tell me.”

Peter stood up sharply and grabbed his food. His stomach twisted with panic, and his mind raced with trying to figure out what to say.

He couldn’t tell Ned. Even if he had decided to tell someone to keep the kids safe, it wouldn’t be Ned. He couldn’t look his best friend in the eye and tell him that his foster father was coming into his room at night… that he was...

“Ned, just drop it. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Why not?” Ned asked. Peter couldn’t remember ever seeing Ned so insistent, “Peter, if this is about the snap, you know you can talk to me. I understand-”

_ “You don’t.” _

“Everyone does, Peter. We all lost people. I lost my dad!”

“I lost  _ everything _ .”

Tears sparked in his eyes. The more he willed them away, the more they burned his eyes. People were staring now, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. His entire body shook as he stared at Ned, who had fallen silent.

“I lost everything,” he repeated, “My aunt. My uncle. My home. You can’t understand that. I’m an orphan. Again! I’m living with people I barely know, with seven kids all younger than me, and-”

He cut himself off. HIs hands shook so much that his milk spilled on his tray, and he dropped it on the table. Peas spilled off the side, but Ned was just staring at him, and he couldn’t stop.

“You don’t understand. You get to go home to your mom and your home at the end of the day. You have someone that you can go to, still. I don’t.”

“Peter,” Ned croaked out. He looked crushed, “You know you can talk to me. I’m still here.”

_ “I don’t want you.” _

It came out before he could stop himself. He didn’t mean it in the way that he didn’t want to talk to Ned, or he didn’t want to be his friend, but simply that he wanted his aunt and uncle, but the look on Ned’s face told him that he had taken it the other way.

Tears broke through the barrier and began to trickle down his face. He wiped them away with the sleeve of his shirt. His hands shook, and everyone was staring at him.

He couldn’t find the words to apologize so, instead, he darted out of the cafeteria.

* * *

The rest of the day went achingly slow. Peter found himself avoiding Ned like the plague, guilt swarming in his stomach over what he had said, but his nerves were still shot about what might have happened the night before, and he found himself with the worst headache by the time the end of the day came around. 

Luckily, neither Harley nor MJ tried to pry, though he noticed them watching him a few times. 

He knew that he was acting weird, but he felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack the entire day, and the moment the bell rang to signal the end of the day, he found himself practically flying out of the school. 

(He had to stop halfway to his house to use his inhaler.)

When he arrived, he practically threw the door open, eyes darting for the kids, heart in his mouth.

Asher, Summer, and Zoe were sitting in a circle on the ground in the living room, in the middle of a board game. Logan was running in circles around them with a toy plane, giggling happily. Violet and Marianna were seated at the table, leaning over a coloring book together. 

The only one missing was Christopher, and Peter felt his heart skip a beat.

“Peter!” Marianna shrieked happily at the sight of him. She leaped from her seat and ran straight into his legs, “I missed you! Why didn’t you come home last night?”

“Sorry, Mari. I was- I was busy. Where’s Christopher?” he asked.

“He’s in his room.”

Marianna wasn’t the one to answer. Instead, Peter felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck at the sound of Skip’s voice. His head snapped over to where the man was standing at the entrance to his office. 

“What did I say about coming home on time, Peter?”

His stomach dropped and, suddenly, he wished that he had not come home at all.

“I’m sorry,” he scrambled out, “I tried to. I really did. The formula… it was wrong, and there was an accident.”

Skip took a step forward, and Peter took a step back. The tension in the air seemed to be felt by the other kids, and he could see Asher and Summer peering into the room curiously, and Marianna was looking up at Peter with worry.

“I was kind enough to allow you to go out so often. I did not want to impede on your life, but I do not tolerate it when you break my rules. Especially on curfew.”

“Mr. Stark called,” he said, “H-he told you what happened.”

“Yes, about that,” Skip took another step forward. Peter backed into the wall. His heart pounded against his chest, hard enough that he was sure that it would break through his chest, “You never told me that this… project was with Tony Stark.”

That definitely piqued the kids’ interest. Zoe was suddenly next to Peter, grabbing onto his arm.

“You work with  _ Tony Stark _ ?” she exclaimed, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Not anymore,” Skip said, and Peter’s head snapped from the girl to him, mouth dropping open, “I do not tolerate breaking curfew. You are not allowed to go there anymore.”

Peter felt like all the air had left his lungs. His eyes bulged out of his head as he stared at the man, at his tormentor, feeling his only solace being ripped from his grasp. He shook his head.

“No. No, you can’t do that,” he said, “We’re working on our project.”

“You should have thought about that before you decided to sleep over there without asking me first.”

“It’s for school!”

“You’ll forget it out.”

Peter could see the anger in his eyes. He knew that this was about more than missing curfew. He could see the panic that lingered behind Skip’s calm facade. 

A flare of anger burst forth, mingled with terror of losing his time in the lab. He thought about the night before, how they had all sat around eating pizza and joking around. He thought about the worry that Mr. Stark and Pepper had shown when the formula exploded. He thought about how Mr. Stark had probably carried him to bed, and though it made the tips of his ears turn red with embarrassment, it also left him feeling warm and safe. He couldn’t lose that.

He took in a breath and stepped forward. 

“You’re scared,” he said. His voice was soft and shaky, but he did not back down. He couldn’t. He wasn’t about to let his refuge slip through his fingers, “You’re scared that I’ll tell. Aren’t you?”

Skip’s eyes flicked to the kids, and Peter couldn’t help but look, too. He could see a flicker of something pass through Asher’s eyes, and he watched as Summer grabbed Violet and pulled her to her side.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Skip’s cold, blue eyes flicked back to Peter. Angry, scared. They were almost pleading with him to shut up, but he couldn’t.

“You know what would happen if people found out,” Peter said defiantly. He knew that Skip wouldn’t do much with the other kids in the room, not like if they were alone, and he was taking advantage of that, “You’re scared. You thought that I had told someone when I didn’t come home, didn’t you? And when Mr. Stark called you, you thought I had told him.”

“You’re talking nonsense, Peter. I was worried about you.”

“You were worried about yourself, and you know it,” Peter spat out, “You don’t care about me. You don’t care about any of us. Only you and your reputation.”

“Peter.”

“Did you hurt Christopher?” 

The question came out before he could stop it. He glared at Skip with such hatred that he didn’t even know he was capable of, staring him down, Christopher’s absence ringing in his mind.

“Peter, you’re clearly unhinged, right now.”

“Did. You. Hurt. Christopher?”

“Please, Peter. You’re scaring the kids and-”

“ANSWER ME!”

His fists shook at his side. His face was red. He stared at the way Skip’s face was drained of color, the way his eyes flickered to the kids and back to Peter. He was scared, though Peter knew that it wasn’t of Peter. He was scared of his secret, his precious little secret, getting out. He couldn’t silence eight kids. Not like Peter.

“What’s going on?”

Peter’s head snapped to the side, where Christopher was standing at the bottom of the stairs, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. His headphones were around his neck, and Peter could faintly hear music playing from them.

A bit of relief flooded through Peter, but he knew better than anyone that people could pretend like everything was fine when it wasn’t.

“Christopher!” Skip exclaimed, looking relieved, “I’m sorry, Chris. Peter here is a bit… upset. He seems to be under the impression that I hurt you.”

Christopher blinked, and the look of confusion that passed over his face was too genuine to be faked. He didn’t know what Peter was talking about, and Peter felt the anger drain out of him.

Christopher was safe.

“Of course not,” the boy said, “You would never hurt me.”

The comment stung a little, but Peter didn’t let it affect him. Christopher didn’t know. He still thought that Skip was his savior. 

Skip turned back to Peter with raised eyebrows.

“See?” he said, “You know, Peter, that I would never hurt them. I would never hurt any of you.”

Peter felt Marianna pull on his shirt nervously. She was hidden behind his legs, and he could see tears on her face. Her lip trembled, and she was staring at the situation with wide, horrified eyes.

The rest of his anger seemed to flood out of him. He found himself looking up, at the nervous expression on Summer’s face as she held Violet behind her, at the distrust that Asher was shooting Skip now, at the glare that Zoe was aiming at Skip (and the similar glare that Christopher was starting to aim at Peter). He could see Logan, so little and innocent, staring at them with wide, confused eyes.

Guilt hit him like a train, and he mentally berated himself for doing this in front of the kids. They had already been through so much in their lives. Why was he adding to it? Wasn’t he supposed to be shielding them from it?

“I think you should go to your room, Peter,” Skip said, and the look in his eyes let Peter know that he would undoubtedly be visiting him later that night.

Peter didn’t argue. He nodded stiffly, turned on his heel, and went straight for his bedroom. He ignored Marianna’s shaky call to him, ignored the way Asher moved in front of Zoe when Skip began to talk to the kids again, ignored Christopher’s question of “Why would he even think that?”

Instead, he entered his little bedroom, shut the door, and through himself onto his bed. He screamed into his pillow, muffling the sound to the bed of his ability, and felt the tears escape his eyes and soak the fabric. 

He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t. Those kids… they weren’t safe. If something like what happened occurred again, and Peter left them home alone with Skip, they could get hurt. He was lucky that nothing happened this time. He didn’t trust the man with the kids, and he felt like he was going to throw up at the thought of Skip coming into his room again.

His hands shakily found his phone, the StarkPhone that Mr. Stark had given him, with his number already in the phone. Mr. Stark was Iron Man. He was a superhero, and Peter knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would come if Peter called him. If Peter told him what was going on, they would all be out of the house by tonight, and he would never have to worry about Skip again.

It was tempting. It would be horrifically embarrassing to tell, and he would never be able to look Mr. Stark in the eye again, but all the kids… they would be safe from Skip, and Peter wouldn’t have to deal with the man’s nightly visits. 

He pulled up the man’s contact information. His thumb hovered over the call button.

He wanted it to be over so badly. He wanted the kids to be safe more than anything. All it would take was him biting back his pride and admitting that Skip had been hurting him, had been molesting him. If he could do that, Mr. Stark would come. Skip would be arrested. It would all be over.

But the foster system was already incredibly overcrowded. Millions of kids had been thrown in it after the Snap. They were lucky to have even gotten a family, and the kids… well, they were happy here. Skip had said that as long as Peter was around and didn’t disobey, they would be safe. The fact that he hadn’t hurt the other kids the night before… Well, that was promising. Wasn’t it?

If he told, the kids would be split up and probably placed in group homes, and Peter would have no way of protecting them if another Skip was waiting for them there. He could be sending them away from their happy family and into the lion’s den.

He threw his phone off the bed and hugged his pillow to his chest.

He couldn’t tell.

He just had to make sure that Skip saw no reason to hurt the others. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! Sorry this chapter took so long to get out. I was having a hard time focusing on it with everything else going on in the world, but here it is! And the next chapter is FIELD TRIP TIME!  
> Leave a comment and let me know what you think! And follow me at babysitterxsteve on tumblr if you want!


	9. Chapter 9

Peter skidded into class just moments before the bell rang. He collapsed into the seat beside MJ, who cocked an eyebrow at him, and ran a hand over his face.

“Sorry,” he said, “I couldn’t find my phone this morning. Marianna took it to play games.”

“How did a five-year-old get into your phone?” she asked.

He shrugged and leaned back on the chair, eyes flicking to where Harley was, head turned facing the front but obviously listening. Things had been a little awkward between the two of them lately, ever since he had to tell Harley that he could no longer go to Stark Tower and help with the project. He knew that Harley was getting suspicious, so beyond sending him new formulas for the webs to try at home, he had tried to distance himself from him.

“Who knows,” he answered MJ as he turned back to her, shrugging, “I don’t ask questions when it comes to Mari.”

“Sounds like my kind of girl,” MJ smirked, “You got your permission slip?”

He nodded and pulled it out of his bag, a relieved grin on his face. After everything that had happened, he had been sure that Skip wouldn’t let him go on this field trip, but he had. Peter was pretty sure he was trying to keep from doing anything else, too afraid that it would ruin his reputation of the “Father-Of-The-Year.”

Peter wasn’t complaining about that. He was looking forward to this field trip, after all. 

“Alright, class,” his teacher spoke from her desk, causing Peter to quickly turn to the front, “When I call your name, hand me your signed permission slip form. Mariah Anderson.”

Peter watched as a mousy girl stood up. He glanced back at MJ, who had her sketchbook out. He could see from his angle a drawing of himself, and he found himself grinning lightly.

By the time the whole class had turned in their permission slips, the principal came over the intercom to announce for them to head to the buses. 

Peter jumped up out of his seat with his bag, but he waited until most of the class had already filed out of the door before following suit with MJ. 

They walked in silence for a moment, a comfortable silence that Peter found that only seemed to exist when he was with MJ, before she spoke.

“How are your formulas coming along?”

Peter sighed and adjusted his bag. His eyes flickered to Harley, who was just up ahead focused on something in his phone.

“They’d be going better if I could actually see the results,” he answered, “Harley sends videos, but it’s not the same as being in the lab.”

“Skip still isn’t letting up on that?” MJ asked. There was an odd look on her face, like she was contemplating something.

Peter shook his head. He wasn’t even asking Skip. The less he saw of the man, the better.

“No. He won’t. I’m just going to have to figure this out without the lab.”

“Hmm.”

They reached the bus shortly. Peter climbed on and followed MJ, who slid into a seat in the back. He paused, however, as he spotted Ned in a seat. His backpack was next to him, but he quickly moved it out of the way when he saw Peter, pleading eyes looking at him.

They hadn’t spoken since that day that Peter had blown up at him, and every time he saw him, Peter felt guilt clench deep in his stomach. It was more than just guilt, though. It was anger, anger that he wouldn’t drop it when Peter said he was fine, and it was terror that the boy, who knew Peter more than Peter even knew himself, would figure it all out.

He avoided Ned’s eyes and walked past the seat, slipping in next to MJ. He could see Ned’s shoulders drop, and the guilt grew even more.

He spotted Harley glance sharply over at him from his spot, and then he slipped out of his seat and took the available seat beside Ned. Peter couldn’t hear what they were talking about.

He tore his gaze from the two of them to MJ. She was frowning at him.

“What?” he asked.

“There’s something going on with you and Ned,” she stated, arching an eyebrow at him, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the two of you fight.”

“We didn’t fight,” he said defensively. He hugged his bag to his chest and flicked his gaze over to Ned again, “It’s just… complicated.”

He couldn’t tell MJ why he was avoiding his best friend, because then he would have to tell her about Skip, and that was a secret that he was taking to the grave. He was certain of that now.

“Well, make it uncomplicated,” she said, “The two of you have been moping around each other for a week, now. I’ve never seen Ned so depressed.”

The guilt squirmed up into his chest. He looked away and sighed, furrowing his eyebrows. 

He didn’t have a response to that. He wanted, desperately, to talk to Ned. He wanted to tell him, because never before had he ever kept a secret from Ned, and he was desperate to have someone to lean on right now, but he couldn’t.

He knew that if Ned kept asking, he would spill. He couldn’t let that happen.

Neither of them spoke for the rest of the bus ride.

* * *

“Welcome to Oscorp!”

The intern that stood at the front of the crowd was a young girl just out of high school, her blonde hair pulled back tightly in a ponytail. She was smiling and cheerful, but Peter could see the look in her eyes that said she would rather be doing anything else than giving a tour to a bunch of kids.

Despite wanting desperately to go up front to listen as the tour guide began to lead them through the building, discussing several projects, he was wary about leaving MJ’s side, and she stuck to the back of the crowd.

He quickly realized, however, that he had made a good decision. Flash had slithered his way up front, and without his sights on Peter, he seemed to have forgotten that he was there.

“Lately, Oscorp Industries has begun focusing on regenerative and cross-species genetics,” their tour guide, who had introduced herself as Mackenzie, said, “One goal that this research hopes to achieve is to discover the ability to allow humans to regrow lost limbs. As many of you know, The Snap led to quite a few accidents, and with the delay of emergency personnel getting to everyone, the amount of people who had to have a limb amputated has grown considerably.”

There was an immediate shift in the air of the students at the mention of The Snap. It had become almost a rule around school not to mention it. It had affected all of them in one way or another, and after that first week of school where one too many kids had broken down in class or started sobbing in the hallway, it had become a universal rule to pretend like it had never existed.

Either Mackenzie didn’t notice or she didn’t care. Either way, she continued, gesturing for them to follow her into another room.

“Are those spiders!?”

Peter couldn’t tell who had said that, but quite a few people in the crowd began backing up.

“These are genetically engineered spiders,” Mackenzie stated. She gave a long-suffering sigh, like she was tired of walking kids through this, but forced the smile back on her face, “They’re in the cage. They can’t get to you.”

“You don’t know that,” Eloise Putnam said, backing away from the container that seemed to have thousands of little spiders scurrying around in it, “Spiders are evil.”

Peter had to admit that the sight of the arachnids crawling all over each other was enough to make his stomach twist. He found himself staring at them, unable to pull his eyes away.

“Why do you have genetically engineered spiders?” Harley asked. His voice was loud and accusing, and Peter was suddenly reminded of Mr. Stark’s staunch dislike of the company.

It seemed it had passed on to Harley.

Mackenzie smiled tightly.

“These spiders are a test subject of an old project that Oscorp is bringing back to aid people in the medical field. The idea is that these spiders will be able to bite someone who is sick or injured and inject a copy of their DNA that would allow that person to be healed.”

Harley looked a bit put out by that explanation.

Peter caught MJ’s eyes, and he could tell that she was thinking the same thing he was.

They were going to have to keep an eye on Harley.

* * *

It wasn’t until lunch came around that the problem arose. The students were settling into the Oscorp cafeteria for a complimentary meal when Harley asked to use the restroom. When he didn’t return for ten minutes, Peter knew that something was up.

“He’s probably snooping around,” MJ said, frowning. She stabbed her salad with her fork, practically glaring at the cafeteria door.

Peter nodded in agreement, leg bouncing nervously. There was no doubt in him that Harley was snooping around. He didn’t know exactly why, but he knew that Harley could get in loads of trouble should he get caught.

Which meant he definitely needed to stay away from the situation. He couldn’t risk getting in trouble with Skip again.

“Mr. Stark doesn’t like Oscorp,” he told MJ.

“Do you think he put him up to it?” she asked. She tapped her pencil against her sketchbook, “Does he want Harley to go find some hidden secrets? Steal some projects?”

Peter shook his head and glanced back at her. While he hadn’t spent too much time with Mr. Stark, he was pretty sure he knew that the man wouldn’t send a teenager to steal ideas about his rival company. He was Iron Man, after all, and a genius. If he really wanted to, he could hack the company and find out everything.

“No. Whatever Harley’s doing, he’s doing it of his own accord.”

MJ chewed on her bottom lip, pondering. Then, she stood up.

“I’m going to find him.”

“What?” Peter exclaimed, “MJ, if you get caught, you could get in so much trouble. This is like… if you tried to sneak around Stark Tower.”

“Oscorp doesn’t have an A.I. following my every move,” MJ said, “And besides, if I don’t go after him, who knows what kind of trouble that boy will get himself into.”

Before Peter could say anything, she squared her shoulders and made her way up to the teacher. He could just barely hear her ask to use the bathroom, and then she was heading out of the cafeteria.

Peter sighed and let his shoulders fall. 

Great. Now both Harley AND MJ were going to get into trouble.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ned sitting alone at the end of the table. He looked up, almost as if he could feel Peter’s head turning towards him, and he gave a weak smile. Peter turned away.

He really should go talk to him. He should go over and apologize and beg for forgiveness. He should explain that he just got freaked out, that he didn’t mean to yell at him, and he was only avoiding him because he was terrified that Ned would keep pushing. He was terrified about what he would say.

He was suddenly hit with the urgency to do just that: to get up and go over to Ned and spill everything.

Instead, he stood up and followed MJ out of the cafeteria.

* * *

It was just Peter’s luck that he found Harley and MJ having what seemed to be a heated argument in the middle of the spider room.

“I’m all for taking down big businesses,” MJ was saying as Peter stepped into the room, “But this is dangerous. There’s a reason we are supposed to stay with the group. There could be dangerous experiments around.

“I live with Tony Stark, Michelle,” Harley shot back, “I know how to handle dangerous experiments.”

“Obviously not,” she hissed, “Or you would know better than to go around them unsupervised.”

“Guys,” Peter said, catching their attention. Their head snapped towards him, “They’re going to start getting suspicious if we don’t go back.”

“What are you doing, Peter?” Harley exclaimed, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Neither are you.”

Harley shook his head firmly, and Peter could see some worry in his eyes.

“I’m not going to be the reason you get into trouble again,” Harley said, “Go back to the cafeteria.”

“Not without you,” Peter said, “What are you even doing?”

Harley huffed. He spun on his heel and stared at the spiders, eyebrows furrowed as if deep in thought.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he said, not facing him, “Tony doesn’t like Oscorp, but he won’t tell me why. I’m going to figure it out and help Tony take them down.”

“Which is stupid,” MJ added, arms crossed over her chest. She pointed at the spiders, “This stuff is dangerous. Besides, Tony Stark probably just doesn’t like them because they’re a rival company. Businesses do that all the time.”

Harley shook his head. He tapped his fingers against the glass.

“No, there’s something more. I’m sure of it.”

“Then leave it to the Avengers,” Peter said, “MJ’s right. If they’re doing something illegal, we should stay away from it. We’re not the Avengers.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t help them.”

“There isn’t anything that we can find that Mr. Stark can’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“We’re not smarter than F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

“Of course not, but-”

“Peter!”

MJ’s sudden, sharp interjection caught both of them off guard. Peter’s head snapped to her, and he frowned at the look on her face. Her eyes were wide, staring straight at him, and her finger was pointing shakily on his neck.

“Spider.”

A sharp pain shot through right as he slapped the back of his neck, feeling something crush underneath his hand. He stumbled forward and rubbed his neck, eyes wide.

Harley grabbed his arm, wrenching him towards him, and Peter saw a small spider fall to the ground, dead. A sense of dread flooded through him.

“Did it bite you?” Harley asked urgently. His hand came up to Peter’s neck, but Peter quickly moved away. He felt sick, and the skin on his neck was burning.

MJ kneeled down next to the dead spider on the ground. 

“Is this one of those spiders?” she asked, eyes flickering nervously over to the spider container, “Did Peter get bit by one of those?”

Peter stared at the spider and shook his head.

“No, no. There’s no way,” he said, “That’s… that’s just a normal spider. Right? The spiders… they can’t get out. Can they?”

“I don’t know,” Harley answered. He was pale, and his eyes were glued onto Peter like he was afraid if he looked away, Peter would collapse, “They shouldn’t, but what if Oscorp-”

“That’s not important right now,” MJ snapped. Her eyes flicked from the spider to the container, “It looks like the same kind of spider… but those spiders look like normal house spiders. Peter, do you feel weird?”

Peter swallowed thickly and shook his head. His neck burned, and he felt a little faint, but that was only because of the knowledge that the spider could be a science experiment.

“We need to get you to Stark Tower,” Harley said, “Tony could figure it out.”

Peter shook his head, eyes snapping from the spider to Harley. He couldn’t go to Stark Tower. Skip has said he wasn’t allowed over there anymore. If he found out that he went to Stark Tower because he had been bitten by a spider after leaving the group and snooping around a million-dollar company… He didn’t want to think about how much trouble he would be in.

“No. No, I’m fine. It was probably just a normal spider,” he said quickly, “I mean… how could it have even gotten out of there?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Peter,” MJ said. She spun back towards him, eyes fiery, “These things are a science experiment, and one that’s probably not even close to being perfected. This is  _ dangerous _ .”

“I’m fine,” Peter insisted. He rubbed at his neck and eyed the spider warily before making his way towards the door, “Let’s just get back to the cafeteria.”

“ _ Peter- _ ”

“It’s probably nothing,” he said, swinging the door open, “Let’s just go.”

He couldn’t leave the kids home alone again, and he certainly couldn’t give Skip any reason to turn on them.

* * *

It was in his head.

Yeah, that was it. The only reason he spent the rest of the tour feeling nauseous and light-headed and dizzy was just the worry that the spider  _ was  _ dangerous. It didn’t mean anything.

Peter was  _ fine _ . 

He had to be.

He found himself ignoring MJ and Harley, though both of them seemed to be sticking by his side the entire time. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see them make eye contact and communicate silently as they shadowed Peter like they were afraid he would fall over dead at any minute. Their hands shot out to try and grab him if he so much as slowed his pace, and occasionally, one or both of them would ask if he was feeling alright, which he would respond with a simple, sharp nod and nothing else.

After all, there was no other choice.

He had to be fine.

By the time they reached the bus, though, Peter felt like he could go to sleep and sleep for three straight years. His head was pounding, and any sudden movement made his head spin.

He didn’t even realize it when he unconsciously slid into the seat beside Ned, too out of it to even remember that he was avoiding him.

“Oh,” Ned said, surprised and quickly moving his bag out of the way. Peter’s head rolled over to him, his eyebrows furrowing at the elated expression that crossed the other boy’s face, “Did you enjoy the tour?”

He could see it on Ned’s face: the desire to ask Peter why he had been avoiding him, but the fear that bringing it up would make Peter continue. Instead, he avoided the subject altogether. 

Peter hummed in approval, unable to find the energy to vocally respond. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the cool material on the seat. He closed his eyes and focused on taking several deep breaths, trying to ignore the way his stomach clenched and twisted.

He could practically feel Ned deflate at Peter’s lack of response.

He wasn’t sure what Ned said next, because the next thing Peter knew, someone touched his shoulder, and he jerked back hard enough to fall into the aisle. 

“Peter!” Ned exclaimed. He leaned over the seat, “Dude, I’m sorry. I just wanted to tell you that we’re here.”

His vision swam, but Peter could see that the bus was mostly empty, but a few stragglers had turned to stare at him, including Harley and MJ.

They were already at school.

He must have fallen asleep.

He cleared his throat and weakly pushed himself to his feet, blushing. His hands shook as he grabbed his bag and held it to his chest, stumbling forward. 

“Sorry,” he gasped out, before he quickly (or as quick as he could with the whole world feeling like it had gone sideways) got off the bus.

* * *

Peter could hardly remember stumbling down the road to Skip’s house, but it felt like forever. His legs felt like lead, and every step sent a jolt of pain to his head. Everything in him was screaming to agree with Harley and go to Mr. Stark, but he couldn’t. 

Skip had said he couldn’t go to Stark Tower. 

He wasn’t risking it.

The front door swung open as Peter was approaching, and through blurry vision, he saw Marianna racing towards him. It took all of his strength not to collapse on the ground when she barrelled into his legs, and he stumbled back a little.

“Did you have fun on your field trip?” she chirped, and the sound sent lightning bolts through his brain, “Was it cool?”

He let out a hum and lightly pried her off of him. He reached out and caught himself on the doorframe as the entire world spun. 

And when did it get so cold?

“...Peter?”

He leaned against the doorframe, breathing carefully through his nose. His lunch felt like it was about to make a reappearance, and his skin was both on fire and freezing at the same time. 

“SKIP!” Marianna shouted, and Peter winced at the loud noise, flinching away from it, “Peter’s sick!”

Peter shook his head, but the action only made him more dizzy. He stumbled into the living room and nearly face planted onto the ground. He would have if not for someone catching him. 

“Whoa. Easy there, Einstein.”

His stomach lurched at the sound of the voice. He leaned over the arms that held him up and vomited all over the floor. A kid cried out in disgust, but he couldn’t tell who it was.

“Oh, gross,” Skip muttered. Peter tried to pull away, but the man held him in place, “Okay, okay, let’s get you to bed, Peter.”

Bed.

Phantom hands began to roam Peter’s clammy body. He shook his head furiously.

“No, no, no.”

“Peter, you’re sick.”

“N-no, stop,” he pulled away and somehow, despite feeling like he was going to fall over at any point, he managed to wrench away from the man, “S-stay away from me!”

“Skip?”

“Peter, you’re okay,” the voice said, and the feeling grew even more. His head spun and he scrambled away from the man.

“Don’t touch me,” he pleaded. His vision spun so much that he wasn’t even sure where he was or who was in front of him. All he knew was that Skip was there, and he had to get away from him, “Stop, please.”

“Peter, you’re-”

He felt Skip grab his arm, and every fiber of his being screamed. He let out a yelp and shoved Skip away from him as hard as he could.

There was a crash, and then a scream, and then the world seemed to melt away around him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have finally reached the point in the story that I have been waiting for! Leave a comment and let me know what you think. I love hearing from you guys!


	10. Chapter 10

The Midtown students had been back at school for roughly fifteen minutes when Tony Stark pulled into the parking lot. In his defense, Pepper had told him that she would pick Harley up from school, but she had been called in to a meeting at the last minute, and Tony had been elbow-deep in a project when FRIDAY informed him. 

These things were a lot easier when he had Happy around.

He didn’t think that it was too big of a deal, but evidently Harley did. He was throwing the passenger’s side door open before Tony had completely stopped the car.

“I have to tell you something, but you have to promise not to get mad,” he said as he slid into the seat. He was pale and fidgety, but his eyes locked with Tony’s.

“Oh no. What did you do?”

Harley opened his mouth to answer, but before he could say anything, the sound of a cell phone ringing echoed through the car.

“Hold that thought.”

He fished his phone out of his pocket, expecting to see Pepper’s name on the caller ID, or even Rhodey’s or one of the Rogues. Instead, however, the name “Peter Parker” lit up the screen.

He frowned. He had programmed his number into Peter’s Starkphone when he had given it to him, but before now, Peter had not used it. Since that day in the lab when Peter’s experiment had exploded, he hadn’t even heard from the boy. All he knew was what Harley had told him.

He answered.

“Mr. Iron Man!”

The high-pitched voice on the other end of the phone was definitely not Peter. He pulled the phone away to double check the caller ID but… no, the call was definitely coming from Peter’s phone.

“Hello,” he said slowly, instantly able to identify that this was a child on the other end of the phone, “Can you tell me how you got Peter Parker’s phone?”

“I saw him put his password in,” the child on the other end said, and Tony frowned at the sound of children arguing in the background, “And I got it out of his bag.”

Tony glanced briefly at Harley, who was watching him closely, obviously trying to figure out what was being said on the other end.

“And are you some kind of child pick-pocket?”

“I’m not a bad guy!” the child argued, “Petey’s my foster brother.”

That was his second guess.

“Alright, kid. Can you give the phone back to Peter?” Tony asked, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I don’t think he would appreciate you taking his phone.”

“I can’t,” the kid answered, and Tony heard someone shouting in the background, “Petey’s hurt.”

“What do you mean he’s hurt?”

Harley jumped at that, eyes widening in what seemed like fear, but Tony simply shook his head. This was a kid. Her saying Peter was hurt could mean anything.

“Well, maybe he’s sick,” she clarified, though it didn’t clear much up for Tony, “But Skip’s hurt really bad. He’s bleeding.”

Tony frowned. Bleeding seemed more serious. He pulled the phone away and turned to Harley.

“Call 911. Peter’s foster father is injured,” he told Harley, who jumped at that knowledge and quickly pulled his phone out. Tony turned his attention back to the kid on the other end of the phone, “Alright, kid. I need you to tell me what happened.”

“Petey came home and was acting all weird, and he pushed Skippy, and Skip hit his head, and then Peter went to sleep.”

Yeah, that definitely didn’t seem good. He pulled the phone away and told FRIDAY to set up a route to Peter’s house.

“Is Peter okay?”

“I don’t know,” she said, “He threw up, and now he’s sleepy, and Summer says he has a-”

“Marianna!”

Another voice entered the room, and Tony heard an indignant huff from the child that suddenly sounded farther away.

“What are you doing?” the new voice asked, but Tony could tell that he was talking to Marianna, “Where did you get this phone?”

“It’s Petey’s!” The child, Marianna, exclaimed, “I called Iron Man. I told you we need a superhero!”

“What we  _ need _ ,” the boy stressed, “Is 911. We were looking for a phone to call for an ambulance!”

“Iron Man is better than that,” Marianna protested.

Tony groaned as he started to pull out of the school parking lot, already on his way.

“Hey, kids,” he spoke up, and there was silence from the other end for a minute, “Okay, new kid. Tell me what happened.”

The boy was silent for a moment. Tony heard him mutter softly to Marianna, “Did you  _ really  _ call Iron Man?” before he cleared his throat and answered.

“Uh, h-hey. So, something is wrong with Peter. He’s really sick. Skip was trying to get him to go to bed, but he started freaking out, and he shoved him away. Skip hit his head on the table and… it’s really bad. There’s a lot of blood. Peter passed out afterwards, but we’ve been trying to find a phone to call 911, but none of us have any. I didn’t… Marianna wasn’t supposed to call you. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Okay, look, I’m on my way,” he told the kid, “Is Peter okay?”

“He has a really bad fever,” the boy answered, “Summer found the thermometer and it’s at like 104 degrees.”

Tony cursed under his breath, but the kid kept talking.

“And something’s wrong,” he said, and there was an urgency in his voice that felt a little different than the urgency from before, “He was fine when Marianna touched him, but he freaked out when Skip did. And when he and Skip got into a fight last week, he was accusing Skip of hurting Christopher. I think Skip might be hurting him.”

“Asher!” Tony heard Marianna exclaim at the same time as Tony felt his heart drop, “Skip wouldn’t do that!”

Tony, however, was already putting a few pieces together.

“I don’t know if he really is,” Asher said, “But something’s going on, and I don’t want Peter to be hurt.”

“I’m just a few minutes out,” Tony told him, “Where is Skip right now?”

“He’s unconscious in the living room,” Asher answered, “We haven’t moved him, but Christopher is with him, trying to stop the bleeding. Christopher is… not happy with Peter.”

Tony took a deep breath. There was a part of him that was screaming at him to show up and torture the man until he told him what he was doing with Peter, but the more logical part, the one that sounded suspiciously like Pepper, said that he couldn’t act on anything without any proof. 

“Alright, and where is Peter?”

“Summer and I put him on the couch.”

Tony hummed and glanced back at Harley, who was still speaking in hushed tones to a 911 operator.

“Okay, 911 is on the way and so are we. We’ll get there first. Are there any other adults in the house?”

“No, just Skip.”

He pulled into the driveway of Peter’s house. From the outside, nothing looked off, but that didn’t slow Tony down as he hopped out of the car the moment it was parked.

“I’m outside right now.”

Almost before he had even finished, the door swung open and revealed a teary eyed girl with blonde-haired pulled back into a messy ponytail. An older boy with a phone held up to his ear appeared behind her, and he quickly hung up.

“They’re in here,” the boy, who Tony assumed to be the Asher that he had been talking to, said, ushering him and Harley inside. 

There had been arguing in the background when he had been on the phone, but as he entered, everyone fell silent, watching him. A pungent smell instantly assaulted his nose, and he quickly attributed it to the vomit by the floor. He side-stepped the substance, eyes quickly searching the room, passing over the unconscious man who was laid along the ground with a ten-year-old boy pressing a bloody towel to his head, and landed on the couch.

Two dark-haired girls who had to be sisters had backed away from the couch when he entered, but he could tell that they had been hovering over Peter. The boy was laid down across the couch. His skin was pale except for his cheeks, which were a fiery red, and a wet rag had been laid across his forehead. He was shivering, but his entire body was broken out in a sweat, practically soaking his clothes.

Harley was by Peter’s side in an instant. His hand reached out to touch Peter’s shoulder, but the older of the two girls quickly grabbed it.

“Don’t!” she exclaimed, eyes wide, “He could hurt you.”

“He didn’t mean to!” The voice of the little girl from the phone entered his ear, and Tony snapped his head over to where a five-year-old with curly pigtails was pouting near the wall. A toddler was glued to her side, silent and staring at Tony with wide eyes. Marianna continued, “It was an accident!”

“Yeah, well we don’t want him to have another accident,” the other girl snapped before turning back to them, “He’s passed out. Asher and I were able to get him on the couch without him waking up, but we don’t want to take any more chances. He’s… really strong.”

Tony doubted that. Peter looked like a strong wind could snap him in half. He’d lost some weight since Tony had first met him, even, and with how sick he looked, Tony would be surprised if he could even walk. Skip must have tripped when Peter pushed him. That was the only logical explanation for what he was looking at, after all.

“Alright, let me look at him,” Tony said. He put his glasses on and stepped in front of a frozen Harley, who had gone pale at the sight, “Harley, call Pepper. Tell her to come over and bring Natasha.”

Harley nodded sharply, stumbling back from the couch and looking like he might be sick as well. He didn’t question what was being asked of him. 

Skip would probably have to go to the hospital, so the kids needed somewhere to go. Even if Skip didn’t need to go to the hospital, Tony wasn’t about to leave a bunch of kids with him until he knew for sure whether or not his suspicions were correct.

He knelt down in front of Peter, listening to the boy’s ragged breathing. He reached out and placed a hand on the boy’s cheek, mindful of the cool rag, and frowned at the heat that radiated from his skin.

A whimper left Peter’s mouth in his sleep, but he didn’t wake up.

“FRI, how’s his temperature?”

“Not good, boss,” his A.I. said. If it was possible, she sounded nervous, “Temperature is at 104.7 and rising.”

Tony’s hand dropped down to Peter’s wrist. He frowned at the thready pulse.

“What is this?” he asked, “Some kind of flu?”

“Spider bite.”

Tony glanced back at Harley, who had the phone pressed against his ear. 

“Spider bite?”

“That’s what I was going to tell you. He got bit by a spider at Oscorp. They’re experimenting with them, and I think one must have escaped.”

Tony cursed under his breath. The severity of the situation had just risen quite a few degrees if this was the result of a science experiment and not a simple illness.

“Boss, if that’s true, he needs immediate medical attention,” FRIDAY said.

“Alright, FRI. Alert Cho that I’m going to need her at the tower stat.”

“Already done.”

Tony pushed himself off from his knees and turned back to the other kids. His eyes flicked over them briefly before landing on the oldest girl.

“I need to take Peter to the tower. Are there any neighbors you can ask to come over while you wait for the ambulance?”

“Mrs. Smith lives next door,” she said, but she looked hesitant about his words, “But shouldn’t Peter be taken to a hospital?”

“He’ll get much better care at the tower. Trust me,” Tony said. He slipped his arms underneath Peter’s knees and back, lifting him into his arms, “Go get Mrs. Smith. Someone will be here soon to bring the rest of you to the tower.”

Summer nodded and, before anyone could say something else, she was practically racing from the house.

He gestured for Harley, who was hanging up the phone call with Pepper, to follow him as he made his way to the door. He could feel Peter’s breath against his shoulder, shaky and quick, but he didn’t wake.

He had almost reached the door when there was suddenly someone in front of him. Angry blue eyes stared defiantly up at him.

“Skip needs help, too,” the boy said, his hands shaking fists at his side, “If there is really better care there, you need to take him.”

Tony’s eyes flicked over to the man still unconscious on the ground. He had no doubt that Skip needed medical attention, but he wasn’t about to let him anywhere near the tower if his suspicions were correct. 

“The only reason Peter isn’t going to the hospital is because of the nature of his illness,” Tony said instead, “My doctors are trained to deal with science experiments gone wrong, which is what this seems to be. Mr. Westcott will be fine at the hospital.”

“Peter attacked him!” the boy exclaimed, eyes fiery.

“It was an accident, Christopher!” Marianna cried out.

The boy, Christopher, glared at her. His hands shook, and there was blood on them. He turned back to Tony.

“I want to go to the hospital with Skip,” he said, “ _ Not _ the tower.”

“Look, you can discuss that with Pepper when she gets here, but we need to go,” he responded firmly, “So if you could just step aside…”

It didn’t seem like Christopher was going to, but then Asher was reaching out and pulling him to the side. His eyes connected with Tony, then flicked back to Skip, and Tony understood.

Asher, at least, didn’t trust Skip.

Neither did Tony.

Before any of the kids could try and stop him from getting Peter to the tower, he made a beeline out the door and to his car. 

Harley climbed into the backseat and Tony set Peter down with his head in Harley’s lap before rushing to the driver’s seat.

“Pepper’s on her way with Black Widow,” Harley said. Tony glanced at him in the rearview mirror as he sped out of the hall. Harley swallowed thickly as he looked down at Peter’s feverish face, “This is my fault.”

Tony frowned. He stepped on the gas, spotting Summer returning to the house with an elderly woman in his rearview mirror, and took a deep breath.

“Alright, I need you to tell me exactly what happened, Harley.”

* * *

By the time they arrived at the tower, FRIDAY had informed them that Peter’s temperature had passed 105 degrees and was approaching 106, and with Harley’s explanation of what had happened on the field trip, Tony was nearly panicking.

A fever that high was definitely not a good sign.

Cho was waiting for them when they arrived in the med wing. Tony practically sprinted in with Peter tucked in his arms, whimpering and burning up, and she quickly rushed them over to the bed.

“He was bitten by some kind of genetically engineered spider that Oscorp made,” Tony explained hastily, “His temperature is close to 106, and his heart rate is skyrocketing.”

Cho nodded. FRIDAY must have informed her of the fever, because she was already changing out the rag on Peter’s forehead for a fresh one covered in ice water, and another nurse was preparing him for an IV.

“We’ll take it from here,” she said, ushering him off out of the room, “I’ll let you know when he’s stable.”

Tony hesitated, but he conceded at the look in her eyes. He knew that Peter was definitely in the best hands money could buy, after all, and Tony would only be getting in the way.

He slipped out into the hall, where Harley was seated on a nearby chair and staring at his hands. He was curled in on himself, looking much younger than he was, and he looked up when Tony entered.

“I really am sorry,” he choked out, “I didn’t… I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Tony said, crossing his arms across his chest, “But you know better than to go snooping around things that could be dangerous.”

“I know,” Harley said.

“There’s a reason I don’t like them, Harley,” Tony continued, “I’ve been suspecting them of some shady stuff for a while now. Stuff that teenagers have no business being around.”

“I just wanted to help.”

“I don’t need your help with that,” Tony said.

Harley winced, and it was a testament to how bad he was feeling that he didn’t try and argue with that. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest, bit his lip, and looked away.

Tony took in a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. He bit back the urge to lecture Harley more and slid into the chair beside him. He reached out and clapped the boy on the shoulder, squeezing it. Harley leaned into him.

“Is he going to be okay?” Harley’s asked, voice soft and hesitant, a far cry from the normal confident and cocky teenager that Tony knew. 

Tony swallowed thickly, thinking back to the fever that Peter had, to the fact that Peter was not bitten by a normal spider, one that they could pinpoint a direct antidote to. 

“He’s got the best doctors looking at him,” he said, “If anyone can help him, it’s Cho.”

* * *

The two of them did not move from their spot, falling into silence. Tony found himself constantly checking his phone for messages from Pepper, but despite a few messages affirming that she had gotten the children and brought them to the tower, and that Skip was in the hospital with a nasty concussion and needing stitches, she had been mostly radio silent, probably dealing with all the paperwork that this was causing.

He was almost jealous of Harley, who had spent most of the time texting back and forth frantically with his friends. 

It wasn’t until an hour passed that anything happened.

A sudden, loud cry echoed from the med bay, followed by a frantic, “No, no, no, no, don’t touch me! Let me go! Stop!”

Tony flew up from his seat and was in the med bay in an instant. Peter was being held down by four nurses and was struggling furiously to get away. He had been stripped down to his boxers and while it looked like there had previously been dozens of ice packs pressed against his skin, most likely to try to get the fever down, they were now scattered around the floor. His eyes were open and flicking around the room, but they were wild and unseeing.

“Peter!” he calls out, quickly moving so that he is standing near the bed, “Peter, you need to calm down.”

Peter made no indication that he had heard him. He wrenched his arm out of one of the nurses' grip, and if Tony hadn’t quickly pulled the man out of the way, he would have socked him in the face.

“Please, please, please, please.”

Tony bit back the urge to bark at them to let the kid go when his eyes flicked up to Peter’s stats, showing that his fever had risen even more, hitting 108. That wasn’t a temperature that Tony had ever even seen before on someone, and there was no way that it was safe. 

So, instead, he reached past the nurses and grabbed Peter’s sweaty hand, squeezing it. 

“Peter, kid, you’re in Stark Tower,” he said, keeping his voice calm, “You’re safe.”

Peter shook his head frantically and whimpered. He squeezed Tony’s hand back tight enough that pain shot through his hand, but Tony did not let go. 

“No,” he moaned, “No, Skip. Please stop.”

A burning rage filled his chest, but he pushed it back down. 

“Pete, you’re okay. Skip isn’t here,” he said. He reached out his hand and brushed back some of Peter’s sweaty hair, “You’re at Stark Tower. It’s just me, Tony- Er, Mr. Stark, and some doctors. You’re sick. They’re just trying to help you.”

Something that he said must have registered in Peter’s fever-driven mind, because his struggles slowly ceased. 

“There we go,” Tony whispered, “You’re okay.”

Cho moved quickly once Peter had calmed down, gingerly fixing his IV. He could hear her muttering under her breath to another nurse about a sedative, but he focused on Peter.

Peter’s eyes were glossy and staring past Tony, as if he couldn’t see him, but the grip on his hand said otherwise. He was breathing heavily and whimpering, but Tony sighed in relief when he was no longer trying to attack the medical staff. He reached over and grabbed the rag that had fallen off of his forehead and onto the pillow and gingerly laid it across his head. Peter didn’t react.

“-Ben,” Peter murmured. He squeezed Tony’s hand, though it wasn’t as tight as before, “The kids.”

“What about the kids?” Tony asked. 

“Hot,” Peter whispered instead, and his voice sounded weak and strained. HIs cheeks were flushed bright red.

“I know,” Tony said, “You have a high fever. They’re trying to get it down, but what about the kids?”

Peter’s eyes rolled over to Tony for the first time, desperate and glossy. He was breathing heavily.

“Gotta protect them,” he rasped, “Asher. Christopher. He’ll hurt them if I’m not there.”

Tony’s eyes flicked to Cho, noticing the furrow in her eyebrow at Peter’s words. He felt a pit form in the bottom of his stomach.

“Who will hurt them, Peter?”

“Skip,” the kid said. His eyes were going glossy again, and he mumbled his next words, “I gotta keep them safe. I gotta go home. He said he won’t touch them if I’m there.”

The ice packs were returning onto Peter’s skin, and though the boy whimpered, he did not fight it.

“The other kids are safe, Peter,” Tony said, “Skip can’t hurt them. I won’t let him.”

It only took a few minutes for the sedative that was added to his IV to do its job, and then the boy had drifted back to sleep.

Tony pushed himself up and tore his eyes away from Peter. His head rolled over to the door, where Harley was watching the scene, ashen-faced.

* * *

It felt like years of waiting for Harley. Once Peter was no longer awake and rambling things that sounded like nonsense but struck a chord in Harley’s spine, he found his way back to the chair. Tony did not return, instead staying next to Peter for the rest of the time.

He passed the time in a group chat with Michelle and Ned, keeping them up to date with what was going on and omitting the suspicions that were rising within him about Peter’s home life. 

It was while he was trying to convince Michelle from sneaking past security and convincing FRIDAY to let her up to the medbay that the door finally opened and Tony stepped out with Dr. Cho.

Harley was on his feet in an instant, eyes wide and phone slipping into his pocket.

“He’s stable, kid,” Tony said. He clapped Harley on the shoulder, eyes weary, “They’ve got the fever down and are pumping him with fluids. We’ve just got to wait it out now, but he’s out of the woods.”

A sigh of relief left his lips. His shoulders fell forward, and he leaned into Tony’s chest. 

“So he’s going to be okay?”

Cho cleared her throat, drawing his attention over to her. She had a clipboard out in front, and there was a crease along her forehead.

“Okay is a relative term,” she said, “His fever peaked at nearly 110 degrees, which is a temperature that I’ve never seen a non-enhanced human reach before. That’s… not good,” she said, obviously choosing her words carefully in front of the teenager, “Brain damage is very likely to result from that, but we can’t know for sure until he’s awake and lucid. We’re going to have to keep an eye on him for several days, maybe even a week. This is not like anything I’ve seen before, and I want to make sure that we don’t miss anything.”

Harley swallowed. The idea that Peter could have brain damage bounced around in his head. It didn’t seem possible, and the guilt that had been clinging to him all day dug its talons in more. 

If he had just stayed with the group, none of this would have happened. Peter would be home and safe and-

He thought back to Peter’s words when he had been incoherent and rambling. Was that the fever talking or was it actually Peter? Was it nonsense and meaningless, or had his admission of Skip hurting him true?

Harley had a bad feeling that it was true. It made too many things make sense. 

The way Peter flinched when someone touched him when he wasn’t expecting it, the way he avoided all talk about Skip, the near panic attack he had when he hadn’t been able to get home at the right time that one day in the lab. It would explain why Peter had shoved Skip back and caused the man to hit his head. It would explain a lot of things. 

He didn’t know exactly what the man had done to Peter, but he knew one thing: he was going to kill him.

“I think I’m going to go to my room,” he said, pulling away from Tony. He took in a shaky breath and met his eyes, “Get some homework done or something.”

Tony frowned, but he nodded, gesturing his way to the elevator.

“I’m going to stay down here. Keep an eye on things,” he said, “If you see Pepper, send her my way.”

Harley nodded and slipped out of the room quickly. He stepped into the elevator and waited for the doors to close before speaking up.

“Take me to the lobby, FRI.”

The elevator began moving as Harley pulled his phone up. He pulled up directions to the hospital, red-hot fury swirling in his chest. The elevator started moving as Harley stared at the directions. 

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but he knew that he was going to make sure Skip didn’t hurt Peter again.

He texted Michelle and Ned to let them know that Peter’s fever was down, but he didn’t even check to see if they responded. 

The moment the elevator doors opened, he made a beeline out of the building. 

It was late now. The sky was pitch black, but the streetlights kept things illuminated enough that Harley paid it no mind. He had one thought in mind, and that was to track down Peter’s foster father and then…

He’d only made it three steps out of the building before there was a sudden blur in front of him and he ran straight into someone.

“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s a little too late for an evening stroll.”

Harley scowled and backed away, crossing his arms across his chest.

“It’s not that late, Nat.”

“It’s nearly eleven. I would know. I just finished wrangling kids into bed,” Natasha said, an eyebrow cocked at him. She was dressed in jeans and a blue sweater, and her blonde hair was disheveled. Without her striking red hair and famous uniform, no one even gave her a second glance on the street.

It was hard for Harley to remember that the woman standing in front of him was Black Widow, a trained assassin and spy. She was the only one of the Rogues that Tony had allowed him to meet, and even then he had made it very clear that the only reason he had allowed it was because of Natasha’s new job overseeing the orphans of NYC that had resulted from the Snap. She had talked to him before officially approving Harley’s placement with Tony, and lately her frequent visits to the remaining kids at Stark Tower had meant that Harley saw a lot of her. 

Somewhere in the last two months, they had gotten close.

Harley slid his hands into his pocket and glanced up at the dark sky, avoiding her eyes.

“I just had somewhere to go.”

“And where would that be?” Natasha asked.

“Nowhere,” Harley said, “How did you even know I was out here anyway?”

“FRIDAY alerted me that you had left the building. I was going to make sure that you weren’t going to try anything stupid, like committing murder.”

Harley glared at her and backed away. The winter air nipped at his skin, taunting him for his lack of coat, but he paid it no mind. 

“How did you know that?”

“Spy, remember?”

He let out a huff and bit down hard on his cheek. Tears burned his eyes, but he willed them not to fall. Not now. Not in public.

So, instead, he took a step forward.

“He hurt Peter,” he hissed out, “I’m not just going to sit around with that knowledge and do nothing.”

Natasha didn’t answer immediately. She sighed, reached out, and squeezed his shoulder. Then, she turned him back towards the tower and began to walk back in.

She didn’t look back to see if he was following her, but he did, trudging dejectedly back in.

Natasha didn’t speak again until they were back in the elevator, closing them off from prying ears.

“Tony has already messaged me his suspicions. I’ve spoken with the other kids already. Trust me when I say that I am doing everything in my power to figure out what’s going on. If it’s true that Westcott has hurt your friend in any way, I promise you that I will find out, and I will make sure that he is brought to justice. You, however, don’t need to worry about it.”

“Peter’s my friend,” Harley argued, “I have to do something.”

“You can’t do anything if you’re in juvie for attempted murder,” Natasha countered, “What you can do is be there for Peter, and let the adults do their jobs.”

Harley looked away. He clenched his jaw and sniffed. He didn’t want to admit that she was right. He couldn’t just sit around and let the adults handle it. Peter was his friend, and someone that was supposed to be keeping him safe had been hurting him. 

He wanted- no,  _ needed-  _ to do something, not just sit around while the man was pampered in the hospital. He had to fix it. 

Peter’s words echoed in his mind. He had sounded so terrified, so desperate, saying things that meant that Harley had missed some serious signs.

Saying them because of Harley’s irresponsibility.

The tears fell past the dam. He wiped them away furiously to keep Natasha from seeing, but she noticed everything. It was a useless task. 

“The doctor said he could have brain damage,” he whispered, “His fever was close to 110. He could be permanently damaged all because he was trying to stop me from being dumb.”

“That doesn’t mean that you have a responsibility to step in now.”

“I owe it to him.”

Natasha shook her head firmly. 

“You don’t. Peter’s placement in that house had nothing to do with you. That isn’t your fault,” she said, “And we still don’t know for sure if anything happened. The only evidence that we have is a statement of speculation from his foster brother, and some fever-driven ramblings from a teenager. If there is concrete evidence, I’ll find it, and then we can act.”

“But-”

“Do you doubt me?”

He looked up at her through blurry vision. Her emotions were carefully guarded, but there was a fire in his eyes that she let shine through, and he knew that she was right. 

If anyone could dig up the dirt on someone, it was Black Widow.

“You promise that if anything is going on in that house, Peter won’t return?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, “None of those kids will go back. I’ll make sure of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the first chapter that I've written where we focused on getting a look inside Tony's and Harley's head instead of Peter's, so let me know what you think. We'll be back to Peter's third person limited POV next chapter.  
> I also finally got Natasha to show up! This whole story was created after reading an article about how Black Widow almost had a storyline of her working with the orphans from the Snap in Endgame, but I kept not being able to get her in the story. She's going to be playing a bigger part from now on.  
> Thanks for reading, everyone! Leave a comment and tell me what you think. I love hearing from you guys!


	11. Chapter 11

The first thing that Peter noticed when he came to was the  _ noise _ : an incessant beeping to his right, footsteps to his left, the ‘ _ thud, thud, thud’ _ of a heartbeat, slow breathing, the heavy beat of an AC/DC song, the dripping of some kind of liquid, sniffling, rustling, tapping.

And then there was the overwhelming smell of antiseptic that assaulted his nose, with a lingering smell of lavender. 

He grimaced lightly and let his eyes slowly blink open.

Only to slam them shut again with a groan when a bright light hit him.

“Peter?” the voice to his left sounded like it was trying to be soft, but it sounded too loud.

He swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how dry his throat was.

“Bright,” he mumbled, “Loud.”

“Dim the lights, Fri,” the voice said, a bit louder than before, and Peter groaned again, “Sorry,” the voice said, significantly softer, “There’s not much I can do about the noise… it’s pretty quiet in here.”

Peter blinked his eyes open again and let out a soft sigh when it no longer felt like he was being blinded. 

He found himself staring up at the ceiling, an unfamiliar ceiling. His eyebrows furrowed, and he rolled his head to the side, finding Pepper Potts seated in a chair next to the bed that he was in, eyes red from crying. He seemed to be in some kind of hospital, but Peter wasn’t sure what kind of hospital would give him such a large private room, clean and fancy and looking way too expensive for him to pay.

“Pepper?” he asked, his voice raspy and his throat dry, “What happened?”

She gave him a small smile and leaned over, brushing the hair out of his eyes, her other hand pressed on her pregnant stomach. She looked sad, and he racked his brain for anything that could have made Pepper Potts upset.

“You got really sick,” she said, and he frowned at that. Despite the loud noise and dry mouth, he felt fine, if not a little hungry. Pepper continued, “Do you remember?”

He hummed as he thought back to what he remembered, and then he paled suddenly.

“The spider.”

She nodded, and her hand laid across her forehead. A relieved smile was on her lips.

“You don’t feel warm anymore,” she said, “It was… really bad for a little while. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” he answered honestly. He pushed himself into a sitting position and let his eyes flick around the room, “Where am I?”

“Medbay at the tower,” she said, “Your foster sister got a hold of your phone and called Tony when she realized you were sick.”

There was something more. He could see it in her face, but when he opened his mouth to question it, the door to the medbay swung open, and a woman that he hadn’t seen before came walking in. She was a petite woman, but her footsteps sounded as if she was stomping, and Peter’s eyebrows furrowed in thought. 

This wasn’t normal. Why was everything so loud?

“Good morning, Peter,” the lady said, “My name is Doctor Cho, and I’ve been your doctor since yesterday afternoon. We’re treating you for a spider bite, if you remember that.”

Peter hummed in response, watching as she glanced over the nearby screen, taking note of his vitals. She was nodding, looking impressed.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, jotting down a few things on her clipboard, “FRIDAY says that your temperature is down to 98.3 degrees, which is very good. Your heart rate is back down as well. You’re definitely doing much better than I expected.”

“I feel fine,” he answered, eyes flicking around the room. He cleared his throat, “Just thirsty. And hungry.”

Dr. Cho smiled at that. She jotted down something on her clipboard.

“Good, good. We’ll get you some water and crackers and see if you can hold it down. You don’t feel sick? Any nausea?

He shook his head. He felt like he could jump up and run a few laps, actually, if it wasn’t for the way everything seemed to echo in his head. He frowned.

“I don’t feel sick,” he told her, “but… everything is… really loud. Is that normal?”

She glanced up from her clipboard, pausing her writing.

“How so?”

Peter took a deep breath and fiddled with his blanket. His eyes flicked over to Pepper, who was frowning as she watched him, but the worry seemed to have abated.

He listened, and he closed his eyes at the sound that entered his ears.

“Heartbeats,” he said, “And… and someone humming, but no one in here is humming. Music is playing somewhere,” he opened his eyes and looked at Dr. Cho, who was watching him with interest, “That’s not normal. Why can I hear that?”

His stomach twisted nervously, and he fiddled with the hem of the blanket. He closed his eyes, the overwhelming noise around him causing his head to hurt, and then his eyes snapped open.

“Wait,” he said, and he brought his hands up to his face, “My glasses. I’m not wearing my-”

He cut off as he stared at the blanket. He had let go of the fabric when he brought his hands up to feel for the absent glasses, but the blanket did not leave his hands. Instead, it was stuck to his skin like velcro, and he frantically shook his hands to try to get it off.

“It’s stuck,” he said, panic beginning to bubble over, “Why-Why can’t I get it off?”

Pepper reached out towards him and took hold of the blanket. She tugged on it, but it didn’t budge, stuck to his palms as if someone had glued it to them. 

“What the-” she muttered, and Peter turned to her with wide eyes. 

“W-what’s going on?” he asked, voice trembling.

Dr. Cho stepped forward and gently grabbed his hands. There was a frown on her face as she examined them, but the light in her eye didn’t look concerned. If anything, she looked fascinated. 

“Try and relax,” she told him. 

Peter’s head snapped to her. He could feel his breathing increasing, and he could feel his heart beginning to pound against his chest. How was he supposed to relax? What was happening to him?

Pepper placed a hand on his shoulder. He jumped in surprise and turned back to her.

“It’s going to be okay, Peter,” she said gently, but he could see the worry in her eyes, “Dr. Cho is going to figure this out.”

Cho nodded in agreement. 

“We need to run some tests.”

* * *

Natasha Romanoff knew that, all things considered, she had come off fairly lucky in the Snap. She had lost a few friends, of course, but those that she was closest to survived. She still had Bruce and Clint and Steve. Wanda was gone, and Sam and Vision, and their deaths haunted her every single day, but her job had shown her that she had gotten lucky.

Others had lost family. People had lost significant others. Parents had lost children. Children had lost parents.

She considered herself lucky to be an adult when it happened. The children, she knew, got the worst of it. Millions of children were suddenly orphans, thrown into a jam-packed foster care system or shipped away to distant relatives. 

When she had volunteered for this job, to help the rehoming of these millions of children, she had known that it would be inevitable that the time would come when she would get notice that some of these children had ended up in less-than-stellar homes. 

She understood what it was like to grow up an orphan, to deal with things that no child should ever deal with. No one could pay her to go back to that time in her life, and the fact that millions of children were having to deal with being orphaned on top of the other horrors that the Post-Snap war had brought… She knew that she had to do something. 

She had to make sure these kids were safe. It would be way too easy for them to fall through the cracks, for an organization to get their hands on innocent children to use them for evil. She wasn’t going to let these children go through anything like what she had.

It didn’t make it any easier to deal with, especially when she was dealing with a group that she hadn’t been responsible with placing, and therefore didn’t have much information to go off of.

Which was why her first order of business to get to the bottom of what had been going on in the Westcott residence was to talk to the children.

“FRIDAY,” she said, running her fingers through her hair as she stared down at the file in front of her, “Can you ask Asher Warrick to come to my office.”

“Of course, Ms. Romanoff,” FRIDAY answered.

Natasha tapped the pen in her hand against the desk. It was weird working in an office. She had almost turned it down when Tony had offered to give her one at Stark Tower. She had to admit, though, it made it a lot easier to handle these things in private.

It didn’t take long for the boy to arrive. !He slipped into the room silently, eyes glued to the floor. She offered him a smile, but he didn’t reciprocate. Instead, he sat on the chair across her desk and tapped his foot anxiously. 

“Asher,” she said, “How are you settling in?”

He looked up at her with a small frown.

“Alright,” he answered, “It’s nicer than I expected, but I miss my bed… and I don’t like that they separated me and my sister.”

“I know it’s an abrupt change,” she said, “Once we know what’s going on, we’ll be able to figure out how to move forward.”

“Is Peter okay?”

“I don’t know,” she said after a moment of hesitation, “Last I heard, his fever had gone down, but it had gotten really high throughout the night.”

Asher swallowed and looked away again. He gripped the arms of the chair tight enough to whiten his knuckles.

“And Skip?”

“Mr. Westcott will be fine,” she told him, “He has a nasty concussion and had to have several stitches, but he will make a full recovery. However, I need to know anything that you know regarding Mr. Westcott’s and Peter’s relationship.”

Asher didn’t answer immediately. He sucked in a breath and crossed his arms over his chest, eyes closing for a brief moment before reopening.

“I don’t know what was going on,” he whispered, “Peter accused him of hurting Christopher, and he flinched away from him a lot. Peter didn’t like him. He tried to hide it from us, but I could tell.”

“Did you ever see anything… off about the way Skip and Peter interacted? Maybe something that Skip would do around Peter?”

Interrogations were much more difficult with children. It was hard to fish for information while preserving their innocence. Her job revolved around trying to shield the children as much as possible from the horrors that the Snap had created. It was clear that whatever had happened between Skip and Peter had been hidden from the other kids, and if it was enough to have caused such a reaction from Peter, she was sure that it was something that the kids didn’t need to know the details of.

Still, she needed information, and Asher seemed to be the only one who had any inkling of an idea that something was going on.

“Not really,” he answered, “Skip always acted normal. Peter would get tense when Skip was around, though… and- uh…”

He trailed off. Natasha arched an eyebrow at him.

His cheeks reddened and he ducked his head. HIs arms crossed across his lap as he hunched over.

“One night, I was sleeping in Peter’s room because… uh… I had a nightmare,” he confessed, “I was kind of dozing off, but I saw Skip open the door like he was going to come in, but he stopped when he saw me. He looked annoyed, which I thought was weird, because Skip is always so nice. He left after that, and I went to sleep, but… I don’t know why Skip would be going to Peter’s room in the middle of the night. He never comes into our room.”

Natasha took in a breath at his admission. It was a small thing, and it wasn’t proof of anything, but it was definitely leading her onto some suspicions that were making her stomach twist uncomfortably. 

She paused for a moment, carefully forming the words to say.

“Did Skip ever hurt you?”

“No, of course not,” Asher said, “Skip was great. Or, at least, I thought he was. Miles better than my dad.”

Natasha frowned at that and quickly filed it in the back of her mind to look into later.

“He never hit you?” she asked him gently, “Or touch you inappropriately? You can tell me if he did. I won’t judge.”

He shook his head, though, and she regarded him carefully. 

Natasha had been trained to spot lies. He wasn’t lying.

“He never hurt me,” he said, “But… I think he hurt Peter.”

She nodded and gave him a smile.

“If you remember anything else, let me know,” she said, “For now, you can head back to the common room. I’ll be calling the rest of your foster siblings throughout the day.”

* * *

Peter was pretty sure that Cho had put him through a dozen tests. She had taken blood, done x-rays (including an MRI), testing his hearing and sight, and even looked at his hand under a microscope. By the time she had finished and headed over to look at the results, Peter was exhausted and definitely not in the mood to discuss the bizarre findings

Of course, that meant that not even five minutes after they finished, Harley slipped into the room. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his skin was pale, but he grinned at the sight of Peter sitting up in bed.

“I didn’t believe Pepper when she said you were okay,” he said as he made his way into the room and took a seat on the edge of his bed, “but you’re over here performing miracles, aren’t you?”

Peter mustered up a grin at him. He very carefully made sure that the palms of his hands were sticking straight up to avoid sticking to anything else as he spoke.

“Told you I was fine.”

“Sure, because a 110 degree fever is  _ fine _ ,” Harley shot back. His grin fell a bit, and he shook his head, “Seriously, Parker. It was really touch and go for a while. Ned and Michelle haven’t stopped texting me. They were worried… so was I.”

Peter grimaced and looked down at his hands. He hated that he had worried anyone. 

Especially since Pepper had filled him in on some more details, so he knew that he had hurt Skip, and that Marianna and Asher had contacted Mr. Stark with his phone. He knew that they were all worried, but he also knew that the kids were probably worried about Skip as well, and they were probably terrified of him.

He had hurt Skip.

Oh, Skip was going to kill him.

He swallowed thickly and glanced back up at Harley.

“I’m okay,” he said, “Sorry for scaring everyone.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Harley said. He crossed his arms across his chest and frowned awkwardly, “I shouldn’t have left the group. You were trying to stop me, but I was too stubborn to go back, and you got hurt. It was my fault. I-”

“Petey!”

Peter winced at the high-pitched voice that entered his ears. Two footsteps were coming towards the medbay, and the door slammed open moments after he heard the voice.

Little feet patted into the room before Marianna launched herself into the bed. She wrapped her arms tightly around Peter.

Standing at the door was Black Widow herself, and Peter’s eyes widened.

“Hey, Mari,” he said, blinking in surprise.

She didn’t respond. Instead, she buried her face into his shoulder and clung to his shirt. 

“Sorry for disturbing you, Mr. Parker,” Natasha Romanoff said, and Peter’s eyes turned back to her, wide and shocked at the woman standing in the room, “This little one was demanding to see you.”

“I-It’s okay,” Peter stuttered out, “I- wow, it’s an honor to meet you, Ms. Black Widow.”

“Please, call me Natasha.”

“Natasha,” he repeated, “A-and you can call me Peter.”

Marianna pulled back from Peter and looked him in the eyes.

“Nat is very nice,” she said, “She got me a popsicle! And she brought me up here to see you when all the other adults said no. And she let me talk to the woman in the ceiling. Her name is Friday, and she is very nice. They both told me that you are doing better. Are you doing better?”

Peter’s eyes flicked over to Harley, who looked like he was trying to hold back a laugh.

“I feel fine,” he told her, “Sorry for scaring you.”

“It’s okay. You were sick. That’s not your fault,” she said, “You’re okay, and Skippy is okay.”

Peter nodded shortly. He couldn’t remember hurting Skip, but he knew that he had, and it made him sick to his stomach. He wasn’t sure how. He knew that he was not strong enough to shove a full-grown man to the ground, and definitely not hard enough for him to hit his head and need stitches.

Right?

His hands shook at the thought. 

“But we aren’t allowed to see Skippy!” Marianna said suddenly, and Peter froze, “We have to stay here until the… the… the infestation is over.”

“Investigation,” Natasha corrected, but there was a grim look on her face that told Peter that she hadn’t wanted him to know about that just yet, “We will talk about that more later, when Peter has more time to recover.”

Dread trickled down his spine. He sucked in a breath and gripped his blanket, uncaring if his skin stuck to the fabric again.

“I’m fine,” he said, “What investigation?”

Natasha cleared her throat and glanced at Harley and Marianna.

Peter gave a shaky nod, understanding what she was telling him, but he could feel his breathing begin to pick up unconsciously. Whatever this investigation was couldn’t be good if they weren’t letting the kids near Skip. Was Peter in trouble for hurting him? Surely not. Pepper had made it clear that it was an accident, and Black Widow would definitely not be letting a five-year-old around him if he was. He wasn’t dangerous… right?

If they weren’t letting the kids near Skip… they must think he was the dangerous one.

They know.

They knew.

He sucked in a breath and pulled away from Marianna. His vision blurred.

They knew. Peter wasn’t blind. He knew what that meant. There was no way they would be able to stay with Skip if they knew, and that meant that Christopher was going to lose the last thing he had to his old life, and the others were going to be seperated and forced into yet another family or group home, and Peter would have no way of protecting them there. 

He had no control over what happened to them wherever they ended up. They would be separated and shipped off to someone else, someone who could be just like Skip, but Peter wouldn’t be there to stop it.

They were going to have to start all over, again. All of the kids… they had been uprooted from their lives once before, and now he was making them do it all over again. It was all his fault. It was-

“Peter!”

His eyes snapped to the voice, and he jumped when Mr. Stark was suddenly in front of him. When did he come in?

“Peter, breathe.”

Was he not breathing? He could have sworn he was breathing.

His chest was burning though, and when he sucked in a breath, it was quickly clear that he hadn’t been breathing.

“Oh,” he breathed out.

“There you go,” Mr. Stark said. His hands hovered in front of him, as if he wanted to touch him but was afraid to, “Keep breathing.”

He nodded and took in another, shaky breath. His vision cleared, and he found Harley, Marianna, and Natasha standing behind Tony, each looking concerned. His cheeks reddened.

“Sorry,” he muttered once his chest no longer burned with the need for air, when he was no longer having a panic attack in front of one of his best friends, his little foster sister, Black Widow, and Iron Man.

This definitely ranked on the top of most embarrassing things to happen. Maybe just slightly lower than Iron Man having to save him from a stupid spider bite.

“Don’t be sorry,” Mr. Stark said, “Happens to the best of us. Now, you and I need to have a little talk, okay?”

His eyes flicked to Harley and Natasha, who got the cue. Natasha picked Marianna up and set her on her hip, and the girl waved at Peter, a pout on her lips. Harley reached over and lightly squeezed his shoulder before the three of them headed out, leaving Peter and Mr. Stark alone.

Neither spoke for several minutes. Peter watched him carefully. He could tell the man was uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat for a moment and grimaced before he slipped on a pair of expensive sunglasses, despite the fact that they were inside. 

Peter swallowed and looked down at his hands. They were stuck to the fabric of the blanket again, but when he took another deep breath and pulled his hands away, they peeled off, like velcro.

Finally, Mr. Stark spoke.

“We need to talk about what happened yesterday.”

“About the spider?” he asked hopefully.

Mr. Stark arched an eyebrow at him and he deflated.

“Pete, I need you to be honest. You said some things while you were out of it. Some things that were… suspicious.”

Peter forced himself to laugh. He glanced down at his hands and shook his head.

“Like you said, I was out of it. I probably said some weird things.”

“Peter, you can tell me if something is going on at home,” Mr. Stark said, “I need to know if you and those kids are safe.”

Peter swallowed and nodded quickly.

“We are. We’re safe.”

_ They’re safe, _ he mentally corrected. 

Mr. Stark sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Has Skip ever hurt you?”

Peter hesitated but shook his head. He couldn’t say anything. As much as he yearned to admit it and never have to see the man again, he couldn’t do that to the kids. He could just imagine what would happen to them, split up without him to protect them. They finally had their security in a world that was plagued by chaos ever since the Snap. He was going to let them keep it.

“No, Skip never hurt me. He’s great.”

The look on Mr. Stark’s face told him that he didn’t believe him, but he didn’t push it for the moment.

“Okay, but remember, Peter. You can tell me anything. Or, if you want, you can talk to Natasha, or Pepper. If he’s hurting you or any of the kids, we need to know. We need to keep you safe.”

Peter forced himself to look in his eyes. He smiled stiffly and nodded.

“I know,” he said, and he tried to ignore the way his stomach twisted, “But I’m fine. We’re fine.”

They couldn’t know. He couldn’t do this to the kids. He could deal with it. He could deal with whatever Skip did when he saw him again. Skip was going to be mad, probably furious, but he would deal with it. He would be okay, and so would the other kids.

He had to be.

* * *

“Alright, Nat. Tell me you’ve got something.”

Tony didn’t bother knocking on Natasha’s office door as he stepped in after leaving the Med Bay. He could feel a headache coming on, and he felt wholly unqualified for this whole situation. Superheroes didn’t handle abuse. Tony Stark didn’t handle abuse. He had absolutely no idea what he was doing. 

All he knew was that Skip had hurt Peter, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

Natasha pushed a manila folder across the desk to him.

“The kids couldn’t tell me much. Most of the kids didn’t know much. Asher is convinced that Westcott is hurting Peter, but Christopher is convinced otherwise and is furious at Peter for hurting Westcott, but he did mention something that I found interesting. Christopher had an older brother before the Snap. He was fourteen years old, Peter’s age. I dug up some records.”

She opened the folder and turned it to him. He leaned over the desk to have a look at the forms.

“Brennan and Christopher were placed with Westcott two years before the Snap. School records show that Brennan was a straight A student beforehand, and he was involved in several school activities and seemed to be pretty popular. After he was placed, though, there was a sharp decline in his grades and he dropped all the activities that he was involved in. I found a few records that show that he was being sent to the counselor a lot by teachers who were concerned about his behavior, as apparently he was withdrawn and snapping at his friends and his teachers, though he either never mentioned anything about why he was acting this way or it was never kept on record.”

Tony grimaced at that information, letting his finger trace over the school picture of the boy: pale with dark circles under his eyes. He looked sick. He looked exhausted.

“I looked into Westcott’s history as well. He married one Alice Young ten years ago, but they divorced after only a year. He then remarried two years later to a woman named Barbara Cohen, who was one of the dusted. They started fostering a year later. All of the kids they had were young boys between the ages of twelve and fifteen when they got them. There were six kids before Christopher and Brennan, though four stayed with them less than a week. The other two were also brothers, aged 15 and 12 when they arrived. When the oldest turned 18, he moved out, got a job, and fought for custody of the younger one. The youngest dusted, but the oldest, Shawn Thomas, is still around. He’s living in New Jersey.”

“Can we contact him,” Tony asked. He placed the palm of his hand on the desk and leaned against it. Anger and sorrow were fighting a war inside of his mind. Guilt was there, too. He knew that Skip had done something, had hurt Peter, and Tony had placed him there.

“Already working on it,” Natasha said, “As well as Alice Young. I’m hoping they can give us more information on Westcott, because he has a clean criminal record. The worst thing I’ve found is a speeding ticket from five years ago. Social media has only yielded some facebook posts from his wife about how he didn’t pay enough attention to her. That alone doesn’t spell child abuser.”

Tony knew Westcott’s criminal record already. When he had placed Peter in that house, he had made sure that FRIDAY was searching all databases for any criminal activity regarding Westcott. He had found none. 

If Westcott had done whatever he did to Peter to other kids, no one had reported it. From the information they had on the kids, he was pretty sure Westcott had hurt them just like he hurt Peter. Hopefully, they could wield more information.

It was obvious that Peter wasn’t going to be confessing for the time being, after all, and Tony was not about to send him back somewhere where he could be hurt. Not until he had more information.

“Something is going on here,” Natasha said. She lifted her eyes up to look at Tony, “He started to panic when I mentioned an investigation. He’s scared of what we’re going to find, which means we have to find it.”

“Of course we’re going to find it,” he said, “And then we’re going to be ten times as careful about placing these kids in good homes.”

A smirk graced Natasha’s face. She closed the folder and leaned back in her chair for a moment, as if deep in thought, before she spoke.

“I think I need some help translating for Violet,” she said, and Tony’s mind quickly went to the younger girl of the two sisters that had been helping Peter when he had arrived. She had been silent, and later he had remembered her file from when he was placing Peter. She was deaf. Natasha continued, “You don’t mind Clint coming around, do you?”

Tony could see through Natasha’s words immediately. Natasha was fluent in sign language. She wouldn’t have a problem communicating with Violet when she needed to. 

Clint, however, had lost his whole family, including his three children. The last Tony heard, he had been moping around the Avenger’s Compound. Natasha had mentioned something about being worried he might take off.

He knew what Natasha was suggesting.

“Just make sure we don’t end up with another Katniss on our hands,” he said, “If I see children shooting arrows around my tower, I might have a heart attack.”


	12. Chapter 12

Peter had just gotten changed into some clothes that Harley had brought him when MJ arrived, slipping into the MedBay. She closed the door silently behind her, as if afraid that someone might hear, and she froze when she turned around and saw that he was sitting up in the bed.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he responded.

“I didn’t realize you would be up,” she said. Her eyes flicked to the floor, but not before Peter could see the way they were red-rimmed. She sniffed lightly, and Peter knew that if his senses hadn’t been dialed up to eleven, he wouldn’t have heard it, “Harley said you were okay, but I wasn’t sure I believed him.”

He gestured at her to come over and leaned back on his pillows.

“I’m fine,” he said, “Really. Doctor Cho has ordered bed rest, but I feel like I could go run some laps around the gym right now.”

She made her way across the floor to his bed and sat in the chair next to him. Her face was a mask of indifference, but he could see the relief and confusion behind her eyes.

“Well, good,” she said, “Because if you left me with the other two losers, I would have to kill you myself.”

A grin crossed over his face at that. Warmth spread across his cheeks and in his chest.

“How’d you get up here?” he asked, “I thought FRIDAY didn’t let you guys off those five floors.”

An inkling of pride lit up her face. She leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms over her chest, smirking.

“Ah, that’s only for people who don’t know the loopholes.”

“The loopholes?”

She nodded and fished something out of her pocket. Peter leaned forward and gasped in surprise.

“My inhaler!” He exclaimed, “How did you get that?”

“Summer had it, as well as these,” she said as she handed over his glasses, “I was able to convince FRIDAY that I needed to give these to you, because you would need your inhaler if you had an asthma attack. In medical emergencies, we’re allowed on this floor, so I made it seem like an emergency.”

Peter took over the objects from her hand. He fiddled with his glasses, unsure of whether or not he needed to put them on since his eyesight had miraculously improved.

“Impressive,” he said. He pondered, briefly, whether or not he should tell Mr. Stark that a teenager had gotten past his A.I., but then his mind suddenly latched onto something else, “You met Summer?”

“Overheard her and a blonde girl arguing over which movie to watch in the common room. She mentioned you,” she answered. A frown came over her face, small enough to almost be missed, “They’re worried about you.”

Peter winced and looked down at his hands. He flexed his fingers lightly and tried to imagine himself shoving Skip hard enough to knock him out. He could have  _ killed  _ the man, and then the kids would have nowhere to go.

He blinked back tears that suddenly threatened to come to his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him, you know,” he whispered, “I don’t even remember it.”

MJ didn’t respond. Peter took a breath and forced himself to look up, needing to see her reaction, terrified that she would be disgusted or angry or scared of him, but instead she just looked amused.

“Yeah, loser, I know,” she said once he looked up. She shook her head and kicked her legs up onto his bed, leading back, “Everyone knows that. You’re not a violent person. If you haven’t punched Flash yet, I highly doubt you would hurt anyone on purpose.”

Peter’s lips quirked up lightly at that, relieved that she believed him. Something Ned had said suddenly popped to his mind, from that day when he and Skip had gotten into that fight.

“Did Harley really punch Flash?”

He remembered seeing Harley the day after with his hand bandaged, and Ned had mentioned it during lunch on that day, but there had been so many things going around in Peter’s head that it had completely slipped his mind.

MJ grinned at that. She fished out her phone and leaned across the bed to show him a video that she had taken. Peter leaned in, seeing himself standing at his locker, seemingly engrossed in exchanging his textbooks. Just behind him, Harley and Flash were in each other’s faces. A small crowd had formed around them, talking loudly enough that the video didn’t pick up on Harley and Flash’s words, so Peter jumped when Harley’s fish suddenly flew through the air and socked Flash right in the nose.

“Ouch,” he winced, almost feeling bad for Flash as the boy kneeled over, clutching his face, “He got him good.”

“Yeah, he did,” she agreed, but there wasn’t any pity for the boy in her voice, “I think that moment made him a hero in Ned’s eyes.”

_ Ned.  _

The mention of his friend’s name caused dread to pull in his stomach. He averted his eyes again and frowned.

“How’s Ned doing?”

“He’d be better if his best friend wasn’t being an idiot.”

Peter winced and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I deserve that.”

She arched an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms tightly across her chest again. She cleared her throat and he looked back over at her.

“He’s just worried about you,” she said, “We all are. You can’t push him away for that.”

He didn’t answer her. He couldn’t. He couldn’t explain to her why he had been avoiding Ned, because that would include him telling her what Skip was doing, and that was out of the picture. 

He already had to keep Mr. Stark from figuring it out. He didn’t need to add someone else.

He wanted to listen to her and go talk to Ned, though. More than anything.

But he couldn’t.

MJ sighed. She stood up and leaned over, patting his shoulder.

“Just think about it, loser,” she said, “I better get out of here before someone catches me, but if you get worse after I leave, I will kill you. Understand?”

He smiled weakly at her.

“Of course.”

* * *

Tony did not hesitate before jumping to action after Natasha told him what she had found. He knew that the moment Skip was out of the hospital, the kids would be heading back with him unless he could figure out what was going on in that house, and he was not about to send those children into the lion’s den.

So after asking Natasha to go check out Alice Young and informing Pepper on his whereabouts, Tony found his way to the address listed for Shawn Thomas.

It led him to a ragged little apartment in New Jersey a few hours later. Tony frowned as he stepped out of his Audi, slipping his sunglasses on and letting his eyes trail over the decrepit building. There was a middle-aged woman sitting on the steps nearby with a cigarette, watching him carefully, and a trio of boys paused in their dribbling of a basketball to stare with wide eyes.

He ignored them in favor of making his way to one of the bottom apartments, reading out the numbers until he found 117.

The door was a rustic brown color, but it was chipped in a few places as if someone had taken a hammer to it. The window beside the door sported cheap blinds with a few flats missing, and he could hear a commercial playing from the tv inside.

He knocked on the door.

Voices spoke up from the inside, hushed and quiet, and then a moment later, the door swung open.

A young woman stood in front of the door, dressed in a tank top and shorts that looked to have seen better days. Brown hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and her hands shook at her sides as she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Can I help you?” she asked accusingly, but then something passed over her eyes, “What the- You’re Tony Stark.”

“What?” a male voice yelped from behind her. Tony’s attention drew to the scene of the living room. The room itself was dim and dirty. Beer bottles and fast food wrappers were scattered across the coffee table, and the once-white carpet was brown and stained. There was a fist-sized hole in the wall near the television, and the overwhelming smell of marijuana wafted out of the open door.

Sitting on a dingy, plaid couch was a young man with overgrown, brown hair and skin so white that it looked like he hadn’t seen the sun in years. He was dressed only in a pair of baggy shorts, but he reached blindly for a discarded t-shirt when he realized who was at the door, his other hand shoving a small bag behind his back.

He brought his eyes back to the woman in front of him.

“I’m looking for Shawn Thomas.”

The man let out a shriek, but the woman stood her ground. Her chin lifted up defiantly at him.

“What for?”

“I need to speak to him about Steven Westcott.”

It was clear from the look in her eyes that she had no idea what he was talking about, but the man, who Tony was sure was Shawn, paled at the mention of the name. He stood up on shaky legs and stumbled to the door, shaking his head. 

“I can’t help you.”

“I just have a few questions,” he said, but the man was shaking his head furiously.

“No, absolutely not. As far as I know, he’s  _ dead _ ,” he hissed, “I don’t need him coming back into my life right now. Even a mention of him.”

Tony adjusted his sunglasses, cleared his throat, and gave a short nod.

“I understand that this brings back bad memories,” he said, “But if I don’t talk to you, eight kids might go back to his custody in the next few days. One of which is a fourteen-year-old boy who we believe has already been harmed by Westcott, but who won’t tell us anything.”

Shawn’s eyes were wide as he stared at him, a conflicting array of emotions bouncing around inside of them: hesitance, anger, fear. He was silent, standing just behind the woman as if she was his shield, and just behind his head, Tony could see a picture on the wall of Shawn and a younger boy, arms hooked across each other’s shoulders and grinning at the camera.

“He said no, Stark,” the woman said finally. She moved to shut the door, but suddenly Shawn was moving forward.

“Wait, Kaylee,” he said, placing his hand on the door to keep it from closing. He took in a shuddering breath and his eyes met Tony’s, determined, “I’ll talk to you.”

* * *

“Ryan and I were sent to Westcott’s house after our dad was arrested,” Shawn said. He was sitting on the couch next to Kaylee, who he had introduced as his girlfriend once he had allowed Tony to come inside. She gripped his hand tightly, and Tony sat in a chair across from them, “I was fifteen. He was twelve. Everything was good at first. I mean, I was really angry and upset because of my dad, but Westcott was… he was nice, and Ryan liked him. He treated us well for a while, but then one day he came into my bedroom while I was s-sleeping.”

His voice shook suddenly, and he closed his eyes. Tony clenched his jaw. He had a feeling he knew what was coming, and he didn’t like it.

“He woke me up,” Shawn continued, eyes closed. He squeezed Kaylee’s hand, and there was a horrified look on her face. This was obviously something he had never told her before, “Told me he needed my help with something. I wasn’t sure what was going on, so I agreed to help him, but then he-”

He cut himself off and took in a sharp breath.

“Take your time,” Tony said, pushing back the urge to vomit at the thought of a fifteen-year-old in this situation.

“He touched me,” he whispered, his voice strangled, “He told me that if I fought him, he would turn to Ryan. And he said if I told anyone, Ryan and I would be separated. If I let him do it, he wouldn’t hurt Ryan, and Ryan would never even have to know. So… I stayed quiet. I didn’t want us to be separated, and as long as he was safe… I could handle it, even as it got worse.”

Tony blinked a few times behind his sunglasses. He thought of Peter, and there was not a doubt in his mind that the boy’s story mirrored this one. It was making a lot of things make too much sense. Rage was bubbling up inside of him at Westcott.

He was going to make sure the man would rot in prison.

A tear slipped from Shawn’s eye suddenly and he let out a shuddering breath.

“Skip didn’t keep his promise,” he whispered suddenly, eyes opening to look at Tony, “He did for a year, but then one day Ryan was sick and stayed home from school. When I got home, I found him crying in his room. I confronted Skip, but he just kept saying that if we told, we would be separated, and who knows what could have happened to Ryan somewhere else? I mean… I had heard the horror stories. I wasn’t going to let him go somewhere without me. So, we stayed, and I did my best to keep Skip’s attention on me, and it usually worked, but not always.”

Tony had a feeling that was coming. Men like Westcott didn’t keep promises. 

Still, it didn’t make hearing it any better. Ryan would have been thirteen.

“We dealt with it until I turned eighteen,” Shawn said, “I moved out and got a job working construction, and I got custody of Ryan. And now he’s gone.”

Guilt surged through Tony. He took in a small breath as he gripped his arm in his hand, stiff and unsure.

“I am sorry for your loss,” he said after a short pause, “I promise, we did all we could to stop it. We fought tooth and nail against that big purple grape, but… we failed. We weren’t strong enough to stop it.”

A humorless grin appeared on Shawn’s lips.

“Looks like that’s one thing we have in common,” he said. He shook his head and caught Tony’s eyes, “Skip’s a monster. He’s a danger to those kids. I don’t… I don’t want anyone to have to go through what we went through. If you can help them, you have to. But… you need to understand that they might be scared to talk.”

* * *

Peter was relieved when Pepper came up to the MedBay with a plate of food for him. It wasn’t much, just a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some chips, but he was  _ starving _ . His stomach felt like it was trying to eat itself, which probably had something to do with the fact that he hadn’t eaten since lunch the previous day, but Cho was insistent on being careful about eating too much in case it made him sick, so Pepper hadn’t brought him more.

“Slow down, Pete. It’s not going anywhere,” she said with a light laugh as she watched him inhale the food.

“Sorry. I’m just so hungry,” he said with a sheepish smile. He took another bite of his sandwich and swallowed before he spoke again, “Feels like I haven’t eaten in days.”

Pepper smiled lightly. She had one hand resting on her swollen stomach, and Peter found his attention fall to the heartbeats that he could hear. Pepper’s strong rhythm almost overshadowed the softer, faster heartbeat that he could hear, but when he focused, he could hear it. It was both terrifying and fascinating. 

The sound of footsteps entered his ears, and his head snapped to the door. It swung open and Cho made her way inside, holding a clipboard in her arms.

“How are you feeling, Peter?” she asked. Peter tried to read her expression, but she had it carefully guarded.

“Fine,” he answered honestly, “Just hungry still.”

Cho gave a soft hum, as if that was a very important statement, and jotted something down on her clipboard.

“Alright, well do you want to hear what I’ve found so far?”

His stomach tightened nervously, but he nodded.

“Well, we’re going to have to keep an eye on you for a bit to really understand what’s going on, but from what the tests are showing, that spider bite was more than a spider bite,” she said. She pulled up another chair beside his bed, “The good news is that it looks like it isn’t going to cause you any harm. However, the bite has… altered your DNA. I found traces of spider DNA in the samples we took.”

“Spider DNA?” Peter asked, eyes wide. 

“Yes, but like I said, it shouldn’t hurt you,” she emphasized, “This looks similar to how the serum affected Steve Rogers. It gave you some new abilities, such as why you’re hearing heartbeats or can see without your glasses, and the way your hands were sticking to the sheet. You’re enhanced.”

Peter stared at her. His plate lay forgotten in his lap, mind racing as he tried to understand what was being told to him. 

“Enhanced,” he whispered.

* * *

Natasha wasn’t surprised to find Clint in her office when she returned from talking to Alice Young. He was sitting in the chair across from her desk, running his fingers across one of his arrows and staring sullenly at the wall. He didn’t look up when she entered, but he let out a small grunt in greeting.

“I see you got my message,” she said as she took a seat at her desk, smirking lightly at him, “You know, you could have responded.”

Clint sent her a glare, but there was no heat in it. His cheeks were sunken, and there were dark circles under his eyes, formed from countless nights without sleep, mourning the loss of his wife and children.

“I know that you’re angry,” she said, voice quiet, “When are you planning on leaving?”

“Soon,” Clint said. He didn’t even try to deny it.

Natasha hummed softly and leaned back in her chair. 

“Have you found the location of that arsonist yet?”

There was a little more heat in Clint’s glare when he leaned forward, gesturing with the arrow in his hand. 

“Don’t you dare try and stop me,” he hissed. His voice caught briefly, “You know that it’s not fair that people like him are alive when… when…”

“Killing that man won’t bring your family back,” she said, “And it won’t make you feel better. Trust me.”

Clint didn’t answer, but he didn’t seem convinced by what she said.

“What did you want me to come here for?”

Natasha sighed. She bit back the urge to keep him from changing the subject. She had a better way to get him to change his mind.

“We got some new kids in the tower,” she told him, “Due to suspicions of abuse against one of the kids from their caretaker. One of the children, Violet Colbert, is deaf and speaks only through ASL. From what I’ve seen, she only communicates with her sister, and I think she would appreciate having someone else to talk to.”

He was quiet for a moment. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, and there was not a doubt in Natasha’s mind that he knew what she was trying to do. They had already had the conversation before, when Natasha had suggested that he adopt one of the Snap Orphans.

He leaned over the desk, expression firm and decided.

“I’m not replacing my kids.”

Natasha sighed and shook her head. She ran a hand through her hair. It was getting longer and her roots had long since started to show, but she had no plans on dying it again. She wasn’t in hiding anymore, after all.

“I know that, Clint,” she said. She thought of his kids, of Cooper, and Lila, and little Nathaniel, and her heart hurt. She had thought of them as her nieces and nephews. Their deaths had hit her the hardest. They were so young, so innocent. It was one of the reasons why she had taken up her job, “I’m not asking you to replace them. No one can replace them. These kids aren’t Cooper, Lila, and Nathaniel, but they’re still kids, and they need someone.”

Clint shook his head. He leaned back and looked down at the arrow in his hands, fingers lightly tracing the tip. He didn’t respond.

“You lost a lot, Clint,” she said softly. She reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing it, “More than most people. I don’t blame you for being angry, but you can’t be angry forever. You know Laura wouldn’t want that.”

He clenched his chin and pulled his hand out of hers. He didn’t respond.

“These kids lost people, too. They lost their parents. Some lost siblings. They lost their homes, too, and everything they’ve ever known. The kids who just came in… they thought they found a new home, but if I can do anything about it, they won’t be going back to that house. They’ve lost a lot. I’m just trying to find them someone that I know will give them a happy childhood, and I know that you could do that.”

She paused and waited to see if he would answer her, but he didn’t. He was frowning, but there was no longer anger or annoyance in his expression, just uncertainty. 

“You don’t have to make any commitments now,” she clarified, “But… talk to the kids? If nothing else, just talk with Violet and make sure she’s settling in alright. I think she would appreciate having someone ask her that in sign language.”

A sigh left his lips, but it was paired with a nod, and she smiled. 

If all went well, she could be killing two birds with one stone.

* * *

Mr. Stark didn’t return to the MedBay until later that night. Peter spent his time doing homework or talking to Harley and trying, desperately, not to think about how a spider bite had somehow given him superpowers, because that just… didn’t happen to people like Peter.

He was a fourteen-year-old nerd who had been orphaned twice and couldn’t even protect himself from his foster father. Why did the universe decide to throw  _ this  _ at him, too.

“Hey, kid,” Mr. Stark said as he entered the MedBay. 

Peter looked up from the science textbook he was reading as the man entered. He had heard him coming down the hall, which was still absolutely bizarre.

“Hey,” he said. He set his textbook on the table next to him and smiled nervously. The same feeling that plagued him whenever he was near Ned recently came back ten times stronger with the knowledge that Mr. Stark knew something was wrong. Panic and fear threatened to overwhelm him, but he forced himself to stay calm.

Mr. Stark pulled the chair out a bit and sat down. He was frowning, and his forehead wrinkled together in thought and… was that concern?

“Cho informed me of your little… predicament,” he said, “Superpowers, huh?”

Peter flushed and looked down at his hands. He shook his head.

“No, not superpowers,” he said, “Just… enhancements? Abilities? They’re weird. I don’t like it.”

Mr. Stark smirked, but Peter could tell that it was forced.

“You may be the only teenage boy who is upset to get superpowers,” he said, “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out. I’ll set you up with Capsicle if I have to. Sounds like you guys might have some similar abilities,” his eyes flicked down to Peter’s hands, “Well, some of them.”

Peter grimaced lightly. He was learning how to handle the weird, sticky hands, luckily, and he hadn’t had any more problems with sticking to things, but it was still definitely the weirdest of his new abilities.

“That wasn’t what I came here to talk about, though,” Mr. Stark said.

Peter winced. He had a feeling that was the case. He could see it in the man’s eyes.

“After our talk this morning,” Mr. Stark began, “I went and visited a Mr. Shawn Thomas. Do you know who that is?”

Peter shook his head.

“Well, a few years ago, Shawn and his brother Ryan were foster children of Stephen Westcott.”

Peter froze. A trail of ice slipped down his spine. He looked up at Mr. Stark with wide eyes, speechless.

“Ryan dusted, but Shawn didn’t, and he was willing to tell me some things that went on when he lived with Westcott, such as how Westcott would threaten his brother so that he didn’t tell anyone about his nightly visits.”

Peter swallowed thickly. His heart began to pick up speed as he tore his eyes away, staring at the sheet.

He wanted to disappear into his bed.

Mr. Stark continued, but his voice softened, careful and gentle.

“Westcott sexually abused Shawn for three years, until he turned eighteen and was able to move out,” he said, and Peter flinched at the words, “He told Shawn that if he let him, he wouldn’t hurt Ryan… but he lied.”

Peter’s head snapped up to meet his eyes. His mouth fell open in disbelief and horror, and images of Asher flashed through his mind. Out of all the kids, Asher was the one that he was always the most worried for. Asher was the next oldest in the group, and it terrified Peter that Skip would turn on him as he had Peter.

But Skip promised that he wouldn’t if Peter did what he said.

He promised.

“He hurt Ryan, too,” Mr. Stark continued, “And then turned to threatening their lives to keep them silent. He kept escalating until Shawn was able to get them both out of there.”

Peter shook his head.

“You’re lying,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. All the blood had drained out of his face. 

He could protect them. 

“I wish I was, Pete,” Mr. Stark said. He leaned a bit closer and Peter swallowed thickly, “But I’m not. Westcott… he’s dangerous, kid. You can’t go back there. You can’t let those kids go back there. He’ll hurt them, just like he hurt you.”

Peter flinched back as if he had been struck. The thought of Skip hurting the other kids made him sick, and he shook his head furiously.

“No, he won’t,” he whispered.

“Peter, if you tell me what happened, I promise you that I will make sure that you and the other kids are safe,” Mr. Stark said, “I won’t make the same mistake twice. I promise you.”

Peter shook his head. His vision blurred with barely restrained tears, and his shoulders shook with terror. Two options were laid in front of him, and neither were desirable.

He could tell Mr. Stark what Skip had done and potentially send the kids off to other people where they would be split up, where he might never see them again, where he would not be able to protect them if something happened with their new home. 

Or, he could stay silent and risk Skip hurting them.

“And what happens if they get sent somewhere where I can’t keep them safe?” he found himself asking. He knew that his words were already revealing the truth, but he also knew that they couldn’t do anything off of those words.

“I won’t let them,” Mr. Stark promised, “Nat already has some ideas of who they can stay with, and I promise you, they’re trustworthy. You would still be able to check up on them if you don’t believe me.”

Peter swallowed hard. He closed his eyes and wrestled with the two choices in his mind. 

He had to protect them.

But what if this was the only way to do that?

A tear escaped down his cheek and he took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and nodded.

“Okay,” he whispered, hoping that he wasn’t making a terrible mistake, “I’ll tell you everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Peter's finally confessing! This is a big turning point in the story. IronDad is about to become a super prominent part (which I'm excited about because that was why I wanted to write this fic) and we're delving into the emergence of Spider-Man.   
> Thank you for all of your comments. It makes my day reading them! I love to hear what you guys have to say, so let me know what you thought about this chapter!  
> Also feel free to follow me on tumblr at babysitterxsteve!   
> See you next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! This idea just popped into my head the other day, and it grew when I saw an article that talked about how when Thanos snapped, a quarter of kids became orphans. Apparently, the writers were going to have Natasha be running on organization for these kids, but it got cut from the script.  
>   
> So basically, after talking to my sister and realizing just how many problems would be made in this situation, this story was born.  
>   
> Peter is a freshman in this story, and it takes place before he was even bitten by the spider (although Infinity War has already happened, so just ignore timelines). Because of this, also ignore Homecoming, as you will see that Liz and her father are mentioned briefly. Spider-Man will come into play in this story, just later down the road.


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